


Clans of Anarchy

by JeSuisPrest



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, F/M, Motorcycles, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisPrest/pseuds/JeSuisPrest
Summary: Jamie Fraser was born into a crime dynasty, but is that what his father really wanted for him? Claire Beauchamp, his long lost love, escaped her fate once, but now that she's back, will she be sucked back into his dangerous world?Outlander/Sons of Anarchy Crossover
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 431
Kudos: 254





	1. Of Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

> This story is technically an Outlander/Sons of Anarchy crossover fic, with the characters of Outlander blending into the basic story and setting of Sons of Anarchy. My goal, though, is to write this in such a way that you do not have to have any background on Sons of Anarchy to enjoy this as an Outlander Modern AU. 
> 
> While I am currently starting this story with a retelling of the SOA pilot episode, you will see that I have already started to mold and shape things to better fit the characters. In addition, this story will be told from Jamie and Claire’s perspectives only, which will change the focus of the story quite a bit. I do not plan on following the show’s trajectory exactly, and there will be changes to key SOA storylines. 
> 
> The story begins in 2008 in Leoch, a small town in Northern California where the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, White Roses Original, or SAMCWRO (pronounced Sam Crow), runs things, at least unofficially. Jamie Fraser is thirty years old and Vice President of the Club, alongside his stepfather and Club President, Dougal.
> 
> In order to make this story work, I had to change a few of the original Outlander familial relationships. Some key examples that bear noting before you begin reading are:
> 
> Ellen Fraser MacKenzie is married to Dougal; they are not brother and sister. Her first husband, Jamie’s father Brian, was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1993.
> 
> Colum is not a MacKenzie, but a Murray. He is the father of Ian, Jamie’s lifelong best friend.
> 
> Jenny is Ian’s wife in this story, but she is not Jamie’s sister.
> 
> I think the rest of the changes will speak for themselves.

[ ](https://ibb.co/J3tVGXn)

The bell rang above the door of the convenience store as Jamie Fraser entered, clad in his Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club jacket and baggy jeans. His auburn curls were slicked back away from his face, cascading down and resting just above his shoulders. 

He nodded to the clerk, a young blonde woman dressed in cutoff jeans and a skimpy tank top. "Hey Jamie," she said, giving him a flirty look.

"Hey lass," he replied dismissively, heading for the section of refrigerated drinks. He pulled a Coke out and turned to return to the counter, grabbing a pack of condoms off a nearby display on the way. A small rack of children's books caught his eye and he paused, picking up a copy of _Good Night Moon_ and thumbing through it. Smiling slightly, a slight curl of his lip, he replaced the book and set his soda on the counter. "Pack of smokes, too. Thanks." 

The girl turned to retrieve the cigarettes while Jamie stared out the pane glass absent-mindedly. In the distance he could see a fire blazing and his stomach dropped as he realized it was in the direction of the Warehouse that SAMCWRO used to store guns and other contraband. "Shit," he said under his breath and turned his gaze back to the counter to pay. As he reached in his back pocket to pull out his wallet, he saw the clerk slip the book he had been looking at into the bag. "It was my favorite too," she said with a shrug, taking the twenty from his hand.

"Keep the change," he said, grabbing the bag and heading out the door. He walked over to his bike in two strides and strapped on his helmet while mounting it in one smooth motion. He revved the engine and took off, heading to the MacKenzie Fraser Auto Shop to find out what was happening.

***

He rode up to the garage, arriving just as his mother's car was pulling out. He waved and stopped his bike as she rolled down the window. "Hey lad," she said, pushing her sunglasses down on her nose. 

"Hi, Ma. Have ye heard from my junkie ex-wife lately?"

"No, have you?"

"No, she willna answer my calls. She's supposed to be sending me the doctor's bills, but I havena seen one in weeks," his voice was a balance of annoyance and concern. It was typical for Laoghaire to drop off the face of the earth like this, but she was thirty weeks pregnant and supposedly staying clean. Her lack of contact with him could be out of pure spite or it could mean she was off the wagon again.

"I'll stop by yer house on my way home and check on her. And dinna forget to go to the old storage unit and see if ye can find any useful baby things in there," she replied, biting her tongue so as to not give her opinion on her ex-daughter in law. "Will ye come for dinner tonight? I'll have all the guys over and Dougal can grill steaks."

"Sounds great, ma. See ye then." He leaned into the car to kiss her on the cheek before riding away to park his bike in the usual spot.

Inside the clubhouse, Willie, the Prospect more often known as Half-Sack, was cleaning some unidentifiable substance off the floor. The main room smelled as it always did, like stale beer, cigarette smoke, and pussy. Jamie approached Half-Sack and asked him to fill him in on what he knew of the explosion. "Whole warehouse is gone, is all I know, Jamie. All the guns are gone, too. Dougal and the guys will be back soon and they can give you more info."

As if on cue, Dougal MacKenzie entered the clubhouse followed by Rupert and Angus. Dougal, Jamie's stepfather, was a balding man with a gray beard and an ever-present scowl on his face. He stood head and shoulders over his companions and had the type of presence which commanded every room he entered. Rupert, a jovial, stocky man in his 50s approached Jamie and clapped him on the back, "Jamie lad, yer just the person we wanted to see."

"Aye, what's going on?" Jamie asked.

Angus followed behind Rupert, his small wiry frame vibrating with nervous energy. "Grant's men. They took all our guns that were meant for Sandringham and then blew up the goddamn warehouse."

"What the fuck?" Jamie said angrily, looking at Dougal for answers. "What are we gonna do about Sandringham now?"

Dougal moseyed up to Jamie, in no particular hurry. "I already talked tae Sandringham and bought us wee bit o' time. I want ye to get in touch wi' Ian. Fergus is gonna find out where the hell they're storing the guns. We need Ian to help with the raid and the pyrotechnics."

"Aye. I'll find him and get him on board." Jamie answered.

***

He found Ian at his home, fixing his old Chevy in the driveway. As Jamie pulled his bike to the side of the curb and approached him, he noticed Jenny, Ian's wife, glaring at him from the front window. Jamie gave a friendly wave and the curtain flickered closed, Jenny disappearing into the house. 

Jamie sauntered up to the car where his best friend's head was buried under the hood. Leaning down, he ducked his head under the hood with him. Ian gave him a quick glance. "What do ye want, Jamie?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm doin' fine, thanks for askin'" Jamie replied. 

Ian stood up slowly, careful of his head. His normally thin frame looked even slighter than usual his long dark blonde hair was pulled back in a haphazard, unbrushed ponytail at the nape of his neck. Leaning against the car, he wiped his hands on a filthy rag and gave Jamie a weary look. 

Jamie conceded that he was there to ask for something. He filled Ian in on what had gone down and what he was needed for. Ian eyed him skeptically. "I dinna ken, Jamie. I promised Jenny I would stay out of this shit with the club. Christ, I _just_ got out of prison. I spent five years in that hell hole for doing the same shite yer askin me to do right now."

"Ian, I ken yer tryin to keep yer nose clean," Jamie replied. "And I wouldna be askin ye if it wasna important. We need those guns or we're going to be in a world of hurt with Sandringham's club. And Dougal's no likely to keep ye on his payroll if ye don't start showing up once in a while."

Ian's face contorted with anger. "So, after all our years of friendship, this is what it comes down to aye? Threats? Blackmail?"

Jamie remained calm. "I'm no threatenin ye, _mo charaid_ ; I'm tellin ye how it is. Ye've got a wife and two bairns to support and ye're makin minimum wage workin at that fecking factory. If the club loses those guns, we'll be takin a huge financial hit. Who do ye think is gonna be the first one to get cut from the payroll? The guys who are workin every job, or the guy who hasna been around since he got back?"

Ian sighed, resigned. "Alright, I'll do it, but yer goin tae have tae cover for me wi' Jenny."

Jamie put his hand out to clasp Ian's, and he leaned in and patted him on the back. "I got yer back. Now get yer fireworks together so they're ready when Dougal gives the word."

***

An hour later, Jamie was sorting through the old storage unit. It was piled floor to ceiling with junk from his childhood. Swings and highchairs and walkers tangled together in giant heaps on top of boxes labeled _onesies_ and _baby books_. Most of the items looked to be in good shape. 

He had borrowed a truck from the garage and started carefully extracting and inspecting each item before placing it in the truck. After getting some of the bigger items in, he began sorting through some of the boxes. He came across one labeled _Brian MISC_ , and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight of his father's name. Abandoning the rest, he opened this box and started to rummage through it. Various legal documents and letters made up most of the contents, except for one large manila envelope. This he opened and when he tipped it upside down to loosen the contents, a few photographs floated out. He handled each one carefully. 

_His mother, tall and queenly, and very pregnant, on her wedding day; her best friend Gillian off to her left. His Da stood facing her, their hands clasped together, with Dougal on his right._

_His Da lying on an old couch, shirtless, his dark hair messy and damp with sweat. On his chest lay an infant with wisps of red hair, also sleeping._ Jamie turned the picture over. The date written on the back was 1978 and he realized this was a picture of him and his Da.

_Willie, his brother, at about three years old, standing next to Jamie, their Da standing behind them. All three were eating ice cream cones and laughing._

_Jamie and Willie sitting on their Da's motorcycle together, grinning from ear to ear at the privilege. Brian Fraser stood next to them, one hand on each of their shoulders._

Jamie wiped away a tear and set the pictures aside. He pulled out the rest of the contents of the envelope. It was a thick pile of typewritten pages, three-hole punched and bound with small metal brackets. _The Life and Death of SAMCWRO: How the White Roses Lost Their Way by Brian Fraser._ Jamie began thumbing through it but was interrupted by his cell phone. He rolled his eyes; it was his mother again. “Yeah?” he answered.

“Jamie,” Ellen said, the urgency thick in her voice. “Ye need to come to St Mary’s right now. It’s Laoghaire.”

“Ma, what happened?”

“Just come,” she commanded, hanging up the phone.

Jamie’s mind raced. _Laoghaire. The baby. Oh Christ._ He grabbed the box of his father’s things, stuffed the pictures and envelope back in, and headed to the truck, locking the storage unit behind him. The tires squealed as he made his way to the hospital.

***

The elevator doors opened, and Jamie ran into the hallway toward the maternity ward. He could hear his mother pacing the hall before he saw her, the familiar click of her boots on the linoleum. As he approached her she turned to him, red hair perfectly coifed and blue eyes blazing. She grabbed him, pulling him into the waiting room. “Sit down,” she told him.

“No, ma. Tell me what happened. Now.”

“Sit.”

“Dammit Ma. Just tell me!”

“Fine,” she said. Her voice was thick with disdain and she spoke closer to Jamie’s face than she needed to. “That junkie whore ex-wife of yours couldn’t stay clean. She shot herself up and nearly killed herself. I had to find her bleeding on the goddamn kitchen floor.” She turned away, too angry to even look at her son any longer.

“The child?” Jamie pleaded. He grabbed her arm and turned her back around; he could see the tears she was fighting back. At least half the time that Ellen MacKenzie was spitting venom at you she was actually just scared or miserable, not that she would ever admit it. “Ma. What happened to the baby?”

She breathed out shakily. “They had to do an emergency c-section. I’m still waiting on the doctor to find out if he made it.” She sat down cautiously; her knees unsteady. 

Jamie took the seat next to her and put his head in his hands. Ellen rubbed his back as they sat in silence. They were alone in the waiting room, which was one small mercy. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds by loudly; there were no other sounds in the room, though the muted sounds of the hospital buzzed in the background. Jamie stared ahead waiting for news of his son.

The door clicked, and both Jamie and Ellen snapped out of their reveries and stood. That was when Jamie’s heart dropped for the second time since he’d gotten the call from his mother. The doctor was Claire, his childhood sweetheart, the one who had broke his heart into a million pieces that had never fully healed. He knew she had returned to Leoch to work in the hospital, but this was the first time he had seen her since her arrival about a month before. She wore green scrubs and Jamie felt briefly ashamed to realize that he was wondering what her ass looked like under her white coat. She still wore her scrub cap, but Jamie could see the wild curls starting to rebel, peeking out along her face. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful that he momentarily forgot his purpose in being there.

Reality came crashing down, though, as he caught pieces of what she was saying: _ten weeks early, hole in his stomach, heart defect._ Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and interrupted her. “Is he going to live?”

Claire looked him directly in the eye, her amber eyes soft with the sympathy she tried to hide with her clinical tone. “Dr. Abernathy puts his chance of survival at about 20%. I’d say that’s optimistic.”

His anger rose and the urge to hit something was overwhelming. Instead, he turned on his heel and ran toward the elevator bank, leaving his mother to deal with the doctors and Laoghaire and any other shit that he just couldn’t handle.

***

Jamie pulled the truck in front of a tiny dive bar on the outskirts of town. Throwing it into park, he stepped out, slamming the door behind him. 

He entered the dim, quiet bar, his eyes scanning the room until they found his target, a skinny waste of a man in a filthy white t-shirt and sagging jeans, playing pool. "DONNER!" he bellowed. Donner turned around but Jamie was on him before he even had a chance to see what was coming. Within seconds Jamie had the dealer's face smashed into the green felt, arm bent behind his back. He held the pool stick up to Donner's face and demanded, "Tell me ye sold heroin to my PREGNANT ex-wife!"

Donner sputtered, his lips half crushed into the pool table, "I don't know what you're talking about man."

Jamie took the tip of the cue and slowly pushed it into one of Donner's nostrils. "TELL ME... that ye sold heroin to my pregnant ex-wife. And if I have tae ask ye again, this pool stick is gonna be in your fecking brains."

"I-I-I didn't know she was yer ex-wife, Fraser. I swear."

Jamie pulled the man up and held him by the shirt. "Ye son of a bitch." _WHACK!_ His fist met Donner's nose. "Ye canna sell drugs in Leoch and ye ken that well." _WHACK!_ Another blow, this one to the jaw. "And if I ever find out ye so much as glance in her direction again," _WHACK!_ This one in the temple. "I'll fecking kill ye." As a final blow, he smacked his head into Donner’s, and he went down like a rag doll. Jamie kicked him once for good measure and then stormed out of the bar.

He made it about a mile before he saw the lights flashing in the rear view. 

***

The next morning, Claire was doing rounds when she ran into Ellen. "How's the baby?" Ellen asked.

"I'm glad you're here," Claire responded, gesturing to a set of chairs in the hallway. "Though, I do wish Jamie was here as well. Where is he?"

"He got into a bit of a stramash with the dealer who sold Laoghaire the drugs. He's currently sleeping it off in a jail cell," Ellen answered nonchalantly.

"Wonderful," Claire replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Well, listen, the baby survived the first surgery last night, but it was hard on his system. We need to do the heart surgery today, before he gets any weaker."

Ellen nodded, her veneer cracking. She swallowed hard, "Do what ye have to do, doc." 

"All right then. We'll schedule the surgery for later today. Is anybody going to get Jamie out of jail?"

"Eventually," Ellen shrugged. "Dougal's pissed at him because he missed a big job last night. Might be better if Jamie's locked up fer now."

Claire sighed and rolled her eyes. "I forgot how MacKenzie justice works."

"Listen, _Doc_ ," Ellen said, standing. "Why don't ye stick to the doctorin' and let me worry about my son."

"Whatever you say, Ellen." Claire stood and brushed past her but Ellen grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Don't ye dare come back to this town and act like yer better than us." Ellen reached around to Claire’s back and lifted the hem of her scrub top up, revealing a SAMCWRO tramp stamp. "Yer just like the rest of us, and ye've got the brand to prove it."

Claire wrenched out of her grasp and pulled her top back down. "I keep it to remind me of who I was, so that I never go back to being that girl."

"Ye can take the girl away from the bikes,” Ellen said, walking away in the other direction, “But ye canna take the biker out of the girl.”

“Bitch,” Claire said, just loud enough for Ellen to hear before turning on her heel and walking away.

***

Hours later, Jamie sat on the cot in his cell, stewing. Dougal had stopped by earlier and informed him that since he missed the raid on the Grants last night, he could “rot in the cell” until Dougal saw fit to bail him out. He had expressly forbidden Ellen or any of the other guys to bail him out either. 

The jail cell really wasn’t so bad. The accommodations at the Leoch Police Station were comfortable enough and when the police chief, John Grey, wasn’t busy he would open up the cell and play chess with Jamie. Grey was one of those small-town police chiefs whose presence was stitched into the very fabric of the town, and he was more concerned about what was good for the place than following the _actual_ law. At sixty years old, he had held the position of chief for the last 20, and Jamie had grown up being chased through alleys by him, dragged home by the collar of his shirt by him, and, more times than he could count, being thrown into the very cell that he was currently inhabiting by him.

But Grey had been called away for the rest of the afternoon, and Jamie was stuck with Randall, the piece of shit deputy chief who held his position only because of his influential older brother’s place on the Leoch Town Council. Jamie had grown up alongside Jack Randall, graduated high school with him, but they had run in completely different crowds, to say the very least. As an adult, Randall seemed hell-bent on driving SAMCWRO out of town. _That idiot could never see the forest through the trees_ , Jamie often thought about him. He had a special distaste for Jamie, though there had never been any particular bad blood between the two of them. 

Still, Randall had been kept busy with paperwork most of the afternoon, leaving Jamie to his own devices, and the only thing he had to do was to think about what a colossal fuck up he was. Couldn’t keep his best friend safe. Couldn’t keep his ex-wife safe. Couldn’t keep his newborn son safe. Everything he did, every move he made seemed to make things worse for everybody, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his stepfather liked it that way. As long as Jamie was constantly off balance, constantly trying to keep his life on an even keel, Dougal could keep him in check. As long as Jamie didn’t have time to focus on club improvements, Dougal could continue to run his own agenda roughshod over everyone else.

He stood and paced, trying to decide what his first move was going to be when he was finally released. Nobody had brought him news of his son, and he regretted to the marrow of his bone that he had run out of that hospital instead of seeing him. _Oh Christ_ , _what if he dies and I never get to see him?_ He sat back down on the cot, bringing his knees up to his chest and folding his arms over his knees, he allowed himself to cry quietly into them. 

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing he knew he heard the screech of the cell door opening. He looked up to see Grey stepping aside revealing Claire standing behind him, still in her scrubs. She nodded at Grey, who turned and left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Claire sat on the cot next to Jamie, not quite touching him, and stared straight ahead. After a long silence she said quietly, “I bailed you out. Please don’t make me regret that.”

“I willna,” he responded just as quietly, looking at his hands. Neither spoke for a few minutes before Jamie finally cleared his throat and asked, “My son?”

She nodded, still staring ahead. “He’s alive. Had both his surgeries and he made it. He’s strong, Jamie. Much stronger than I thought. I think he’s going to make it.”

Jamie rubbed his face with his hands and began to weep quietly. “Thank Christ. Oh, thank Christ. Thank ye, Claire.” 

She reached over and placed a hand tentatively on his. “Laoghaire OD’d again. Somebody snuck enough heroin to kill a horse into her hospital room.”

“Is she --?”

“No. She made it. She’s in sedated detox right now. She’s probably going to have her parental rights removed. Are you still married to her, Jamie?” Claire asked, the last question barely audible.

“No. We divorced almost a year ago. She got clean and we tried to make it work again, but it was a complete disaster.”

“At least one good thing came out of it,” Claire replied.

“Aye. Aye, it did,” he said, choking up again. “William. His name is William.”

It was Claire’s turn for silent tears. She had grown up with Jamie. His brother Willie had been the annoying little brother, following them around as soon as he could walk. She had been with Jamie, hiding in the treehouse the day that Willie was born and had held him in that same treehouse six years later when Willie died. She had lost a brother that day too, and neither she nor Jamie were ever the same after that day.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze and stood. “Go home and get cleaned up. And then go to the hospital to meet your son,” she said, looking in his eyes for the first time since she had arrived. And then she turned and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the "Randall" referred to in this chapter is Jack Randall. I made some tweaks to make sure that was clear as it will be important as the story moves on.


	2. Useful Occupations and Deceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie struggles with reconciling his father's vision for the club with their current state. More mysteries about Claire's past emerge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another important character divergence to note: In this story, Murtagh is a Murray and is Ian Murray's father.

[ ](https://ibb.co/J3tVGXn)

Jamie woke abruptly the next morning. His initial plan after being released from jail the previous day had been to shower at the Clubhouse and then go straight to the hospital, however his lack of sleep over the previous forty-eight hours had caught up with him. After his shower, he had lain down in his small, cramped room at the Clubhouse and pulled the type written pages of his father's out of the envelope. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the dedication on the first page.

_To my sons: William, already at peace, and James, may he never know this life of chaos._

Hands shaking slightly, he had turned to the first page.

_When you move your life off the social grid, you give up the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rule of law and if you are a man with convictions, violence is inevitable._

Captivated, Jamie read on. His father's innermost thoughts, his hopes and dreams, were captured on the pages, and Jamie began to understand his father for the first time as a _man_. His Da had been a man of honor, a man whose word was his bond. He valued relationships above all else; his loyalty to those he loved was paramount.

Another revelation soon became abundantly clear. Brian Fraser and his best friend Murtagh Murray had not formed the Sons with a goal of becoming a crime dynasty. Their vision has been simpler, more noble. Communal, off the grid living, real hippy shit. A group of friends and family who depend on each other, not the structures of the surrounding society, for safety and sustenance. He certainly hadn't formed the Club with the intention of becoming gun runners.

He had drifted off to sleep, and only woke up again, some 12 hours later, when Dougal entered his room and stood, towering over his bed. "Aren't ye the lucky one, eh? Got yer little girlfriend tae bail ye out?"

Jamie rubbed the sleep from his face and sat up, casually throwing a blanket over the papers that had fallen to his side when he had drifted off. "I didna ask her tae do it, and she's no’ my girlfriend," he spat back.

"Tell her to keep her neb out of our business."

"I'll be sure tae make it my top priority," Jamie replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do ye want?"

Dougal uncrossed his arms and leaned closer to Jamie. "We're going to the Table, if yer highness would deign to grace us wi’ his presence."

"Aye, I'll be there in five,” Jamie replied, not taking Dougal’s bait to escalate the growing tension between them.

Dougal made a noise deep in the back of his throat which could have been interpreted as satisfaction or annoyance, or perhaps a bit of both. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jamie rolled his eyes and got out of his bed. He ran a comb through his hair, grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and headed out the door, locking it behind him.

The Table, also known as Church, was a sacred place for the Club, the place where all Club decisions were made. No cell phones, no weapons, just the men around the Table making decisions about SAMCWRO's next moves.

Depositing his cell phone in the box outside the door, he entered the crowded room. The Table took up almost the entirety of the available space. He was pleased to see Ian, who hadn’t been at the Table in quite a long time, seated next to his father, Murtagh Murray. Murtagh was one of the founding members of the Club, and he took a seat of honor at the foot of the Table. Next to Ian sat Fergus, a tall lanky man in his mid-thirties, the computer savant and the Club's intelligence officer. Rounding out the rest of the Table were Rupert, Angus, and Dougal, sitting at the head of the Table. The chair to his right was empty and Jamie took his place there.

"Now that everyone's arrived," Dougal said, casting a pointed look at Jamie, "I can officially tell ye that the deal with Sandringham has been closed. He has his guns and we have the money." With gusto, he pushed individual envelopes out to each of the men, except Jamie.

Jamie kept his calm demeanor on the outside, though his insides were boiling. It's not that he _expected_ to be paid for a job he wasn't a part of, but the fact that Dougal had _waited_ for him to arrive to flaunt that fact in front of him was a power move. His stepfather was putting him in his place, marking his territory. The Club was _his_ to do with as he pleased.

Breaking the tension, Angus leaned forward in his seat, asking, "So what's next? Where are we goin' tae store our guns now?"

"I've got an eye on a couple properties on the outskirts," Dougal said, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him on the Table. "I think we should be able tae work something out quickly, but the cash flow is a problem. With no place to store guns, we're gonna have tae get creative for awhile.”

"What if we _don't_ rebuild?” Jamie asked. Suddenly all eyes in the room were on him, staring with various looks on their faces: shocked, annoyed, surprised, and even thoughtful.

Finally, Rupert chuckled nervously and leaned toward Jamie. "Weel, that wouldna fix our cash flow problems."

"Hear me out," Jamie said, more confidently. "This could be our chance to break out into legitimate business. No more running guns and constantly fearing the FBI is gonna come raining down on us. We could invest in -"

"Son," Dougal cut him off. "I ken ye've a lot on yer mind right now. Ye should focus on yer son; we'll make sure the Club gets back on its feet." His voice was thick and patronizing, and Jamie felt his blood boil under his skin.

"This is no' me going soft because I've got a kid. This is about taking the Club to the next level." He looked around the room at the rest of the men. All but Murtagh were staring at him with looks mixed of pity and incredulity.

"That sort of switch will take years," Ian spoke up. Jamie stared at his best friend in disbelief; Ian's returned his gaze was cold, almost unrecognizable. "I move we vote tae rebuild."

"Second," chimed in Fergus.

They went around the Table then, each giving an "Aye" or "Nay" to the matter at hand. Jamie and Murtagh were the only "Nays." Dougal hit the Table with a small gavel, and the matter was decided.

"Next business," Dougal continued, "Wi’ regard to the cash flow. Our good friend, Deputy Grey has asked us to do a protection run on one of his trucks that'll be coming through town tonight." In addition to his duties as Deputy of the Police Department, he also owned a small trucking company.

"What's on the truck?" Fergus asked.

"Electronics, Phones, stereos, some pretty high-end shite. Trucks keep getting ambushed on their way to Mexico," Dougal explained. "Who's in?"

In the end, all but Murtagh and Angus would join the run. That matter closed, Dougal tapped the gavel on the Table again and the meeting dispersed.

Out in the main room of the Clubhouse, Jamie grabbed Ian before he could avoid him. "What the hell was that in there?" he asked. "Since when dinna ye have my back?"

Ian turned on him, eyes were blazing with ire. "Have yer back? Have _yer_ back? Where the hell were ye the other night when I asked ye tae have my back? Ye didna show up for the raid and I had tae deal wi' Jenny all on my own after, when ye promised ye'd help cover for me. And now ye ask me why I didna have yer back?" His fists were clenched at his side, and he leaned in close to Jamie.

Jamie backed up a few inches and raised his hands at shoulder height, palms facing out. "I'm sorry Ian. Ye ken I would have been there if it hadna been fer what happened with Laoghaire and the bairn." Ian's face softened a bit and Jamie went on. "Is that why ye didna agree wi' me on the warehouse vote? Cause ye were mad at me about the raid?"

"No, I didna agree wi' ye on that because I dinna think yer right," Ian answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"After all the shite ye went through, ye dinna want the Sons to get out of gun running?"

"It's no' the right time Jamie." Ian shook his head and looked away. "We dinna always have tae agree, ye ken."

"I ken. No hard feelings, alright? I've got tae go. I havena seen my son yet."

Ian clapped him on the back heartily, "Aye, _Da_. Go meet yer son then."

***

As Jamie walked down the hall of the maternity ward, he saw Claire standing at the NICU window. He detected a subtle shift in her posture; she knew he was there. After all the years they had spent apart, they still had a sixth sense for each other, and Jamie wondered if it was usual. He certainly had never had it with any of the other women he dated, not even with Laoghaire, whom he had been married to for over a year.

As soon as he was standing beside her, she spoke, “You didn’t come yesterday.” There was no accusation in her voice, just a statement of fact.

“Aye, I meant to, but I needed to rest a bit before I came, and I ended up falling asleep til morning. Came as soon as I could today.” Jamie stood silent for a moment and then, embarrassed, asked, “Which one is he?”

Claire pointed to an incubator just off to the right of where they were standing. Jamie had never seen a baby so small in person. He was naked, except for a diaper and small blue hat, and there was an endless tangle of wires and tubes attached to what looked like every inch of his small body. Jamie let out an involuntary sob, and Claire reached out, hooking her pinky around his middle finger. He made no move to either pull away or enclose her hand fully, but just stood there with her with that tiny bit of connection between them.

After a long while, he finally asked, “Is he doing ok?”

Claire nodded. “He’s recovering quite well from the surgery. His weight is a little lower than I’d like to see, but if he keeps up with the pace he is going with his feeds, he should catch up in no time. I know he’s tiny, but he’s doing remarkably well after all he’s been through these last few days.”

Jamie sniffed, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were on his face. “Aye. He’s a braw laddie.”

“You can go in and sit with him, read to him. You can’t hold him quite yet, but you will be able to soon, when he’s got some of the wires and tubes removed.”

Jamie reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled put the small copy of _Good Night Moon_ that the clerk at the convenience store had slipped in his bag days before. “I think I’ll go read this to him, if that’s ok.”

“It’s fine. I’ll have the nurses get you all the protective gear you need.”

“Wait,” Jamie said, stopping her before she walked away. “What about Laoghaire? Any news?”

Claire shook her head. “She’s still sedated. You can go sit with her later if you want to. It might be good for her to hear a friendly voice.”

He nodded and Claire walked away, her pinky lingering around his finger for just a moment longer than necessary as she did so.

***

_"Good night stars. Good night air. Good night noises everywhere."_

Jamie gently closed the book and placed it in his lap. He leaned forward and put his hand on the side of the incubator, wishing he could touch his sleeping son.

"Willie," he whispered quietly. "I promise from now on, no harm will come to ye. Not as long as I'm around." He stayed that way for a few minutes, eyes closed, hoping he could convey to the child, even through the barrier separating them, how much he loved him.

Quietly he got up, taking the book with him for safekeeping. He removed his gown, cap, and booties on his way out of the NICU. Looking around briefly for Claire to no avail, he made his way to the elevators and down to the lobby. Passing the giftshop on his way out, he paused, remembering Claire's suggestion about visiting Laoghaire. He stepped into the small, cramped shop and purchased a bouquet of flowers before returning to the elevator bank to visit his ex-wife.

Placing the flowers in a plastic water pitcher, he sat in the chair next to her bed and took one of her hands in his. She looked peaceful, more so than he had ever seen her, and it made his heart ache for the girl that she once was and the woman he had tried to love.

"Laoghaire," he whispered, "I ken we were doomed from the start and I'm verra sorry that I couldna fix us or you. But we have a son now. He's a wee fighter, just like his Ma. If ye can get yerself better, I willna keep ye from him. So please, get better so that he can know his Ma. Love him enough to get better." He kissed her hand gently and quietly left the room.

***

Claire came off of her lunch break to find Ellen leaving the NICU. She considered ducking into the bathroom but thought better of it. _Get yourself together, Beauchamp. Ellen MacKenzie has no power over you anymore._ She steeled herself and straightened her shoulders as she walked up to her.

Never one for small talk, Ellen spoke with no preamble. "He looks good, doc. Better."

"Yes, he's doing better than I ever would have expected. Much better than his mother."

"Yeah," Ellen said nonchalantly. "I heard she had quite the scare the other night. Shame."

"What I'm wondering is, why would she have taken that big of a dose at once, and who would have brought it to her?" Claire asked, moving in closer to Ellen.

"I s'pose she must have been torn up wi’ guilt enough to want to end it. As for who brought it to her, there's no shortage of scum around this town." Ellen narrowed her eyes, daring Claire to say another word.

"No. There certainly isn't," Claire said pointedly. "But I know that Laoghaire didn't want to die. I talked to her that night, and she was torn up with guilt over what happened with William, but she wanted to get better. She wanted to be a mom."

"That child in there will _never_ call that hoor ‘mom.’ And as for what yer insinuating here, _doc_ , I think ye'd better quit while yer ahead."

"Or what, Ellen? Are you gonna shoot me up with a tank full of heroin too?" Claire retorted, pulling herself to her full height and meeting Ellen's icy glare.

"I s'pose I was the one shooting it into her veins the entire pregnancy too, hmmm?"

"No, that sin's on her. I wonder, though, what Jamie would think if I ran my theory by him."

Ellen threw her head back and laughed. "Is that yer plan, sweetie? Yer going tae win Jamie back by accusing his mother of trying to kill his ex-wife?"

"I'm not here to win Jamie back," Claire said through clenched teeth.

"Then why exactly are ye here?"

"You haven't changed a bit, have you? You still think you're some kind of queen in this town who can do and say anything she wants with no repercussions."

The two women had moved so closely together they were practically nose to nose. "And yer here to what? Teach me a lesson?" Ellen asked.

"You aren’t worth it," Claire spat out. She turned and walked away, hiding the trembling of her hands with clenched fists.

***

In the wee hours of the next morning, Jamie was perched on the top of a bench at a rest area with Ian and Dougal on either side of him on the seat. They were on the protection run for John Grey and had pulled into the secluded spot to gather intel on the safest route for escorting the truck load of electronics through the county. Fergus and Rupert were both off a distance, on their phones with their various informants, trying to discern if there was any trouble awaiting them.

"It's good tae have ye wi' us again, Ian," Dougal said casually. "I ken it can be hard tae get back into things after ye've spent time on the inside."

"Aye," Ian replied, staring at the ground. "It can."

"I also ken, it can make a man start to rethink his priorities. Start to...doubt certain things he used tae believe in."

Ian turned to Dougal. "I'm no' doubting anything, if that's what yer askin.'"

"I'm no' askin' anything but I'm glad to hear it," Dougal replied.

Jamie rolled his eyes. Dougal was so fucking transparent. He had no reason to doubt Ian’s loyalty; the man had done five years in prison rather than rat on the Club, and yet Dougal just couldn’t fucking help himself.

“Ye ken it’s no’ me havin’ doubts, but my wife?” Ian said after a few moments of awkward silence. “Sometimes I think she wishes I was still inside, so that at least she kent where I was and what I was up tae.”

“Aye,” Dougal nodded in agreement. “It happens that way sometime. They ken exactly what to do when they have no choice but to survive it. It’s when they have to take a backseat again the trouble starts.”

Ian snorted. “Like my wife would ever take a backseat.”

Jamie laughed and slapped Ian on the shoulder, but Dougal’s face remained stern, the lines of his forehead etched deeply. “Whether she wants tae or not, it’s yer job to her get her on board and keep her there.”

“Aye, I ken,” Ian said shortly, wanting the conversation to be over.

Before Dougal could say any more about it, Rupert emerged from the dark, cell phone in hand. “Dougal,” he nodded. “We’re ready.”

They stepped away and conversed quietly, Dougal leaning his head in toward the shorter man. After a few minutes, Dougal approached the truck driver and spoke with him. Jamie hopped off the bench to see what was going on. Stepping into the light of the large, industrial lamp post overhead, he caught the tail end of the conversation.

“You’re sure about this route?” the driver asked.

“Aye,” Dougal replied. “Tis the only safe way to go tonight.”

“All right then,” the driver conceded.

Dougal called to the men, quickly explained the route they were to take. The roar of the motorcycles all starting at once gave Jamie an overwhelming adrenaline rush as they all took off ahead of and surrounding the truck.

***

Thirty minutes later, Jamie paced back and forth along the side of a dark country road, spitting with fury. Just a few miles into their route, they had been overcome by a gang of men. Dougal had given the order to stand down. Jamie, thinking they were done for, had reached for his gun anyway, but Dougal had screamed at him to put it away. Slowly, Jamie had realized what was happening. _They_ weren’t being overtaken, but rather the truck was, and Dougal was in on it.

The truck driver was tied up in the back, duct tape over his mouth, and Dougal was speaking to a man Jamie recognized from other business dealings they had before. Eventually, they shook hands and Dougal walked away, signaling to the men to gather themselves and get out of there. “What the hell was that?” Jamie asked, pulling Dougal aside.

“Business, laddie,” Dougal answered frankly.

“You promised John we would protect this run, and then you turn around and double cross him? John is our friend. He has always backed us, turned a blind eye. Why would you do this to him now?”

Dougal leaned in closely to Jamie and spoke to him sternly, as if he were still a lad of sixteen, “Our _friend_ was planning to retire in six months, did ye ken that?” Jamie shook his head. “And if John retires, what does that leave us with?”

Jamie took a deep breath and muttered, “Jack Randall.”

“Aye, exactly. Randall. And what would happen to us then? Now I took a calculated risk on this to not only bring cash into the Club, but tae show John we’re no’ to be played with. Do ye think he’s goin’ to retire now that he kens we willna protect his trucks anymore? Or that we may even work against him?”

Jamie stood silently, knowing that Dougal was right, but not willing to admit it. Dougal went on. “Now, are ye goin’ to continue constantly second-guessing my decisions, or are ye ready to get back on board wi’ the rest of us?”

“I never stopped being on board, Dougal. And it’s no’ wrong to question decisions that can have an impact on the Club. What _is_ wrong is you making decisions like this wi’out even consulting wi’ me. I’m the Vice President, for Christ sake!”

“Ye’ve had yer mind on other matters, lad,” Dougal said, placing a hand on Jamie’s arm in a fatherly gesture. “I didna want tae trouble ye.”

Jamie shrugged his hand off, “That’s no’ yer decision to make. Ye trouble me unless I ask ye no’ to from now on.”

Dougal raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, they mounted their bikes and rode off into the night.

***

Claire walked down the quiet hospital hallway, finishing up her last rounds at the end of her shift. She was bone-tired and couldn’t wait to get home and take a long, hot bath. She pushed away thoughts of Jamie joining her for said bath and steadied herself with a sigh.

Her phone rang loudly, making her jump. Hands trembling, she reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled it out. _Restricted Number._ _Could be Jamie, calling from a burner phone._ She contemplated whether or not to answer and then finally hit the green button, “Hello?”

“You’re an awfully difficult woman to find, Claire,” said the sinister, familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“How – how did you find this number?” she asked, her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Oh, darling, you really didn’t think you could hide from _me_ did you?” He chuckled smugly. “That’s adorable!”

“I – I – I have a restraining order against you, Frank. You’re not to have any contact with me.”

“And how would you ever prove that I’ve _had_ any contact with you darling?”

She curled her free fist up into a ball, willing herself to maintain her courage. “I told you I don’t ever want to speak to you ever again.”

“Be reasonable, Claire. You know that if I want to find you I will. How is life in your old hometown any – “

She hung up the phone and shoved it into her pocket. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she took deep breaths, slowly in and out, until it had steadied and her eyes no longer stung with impending tears. Once her legs stopped feeling as if they were made of Jell-O, she took one final deep breath and stepped forward, ready to finish her rounds and get the hell home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note because I realized there was some confusion. The Randall who is the Deputy Chief is Jack Randall. I went back and made a few tweaks to clear that up.
> 
> Thank you so much to Megan for her awesome work as my beta!!!


	3. Some Days Yer the Beamer; Some Days Yer the Deer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dougal's devious plan with Chief Grey pays off; Laoghaire's fate is decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to be able to bring you a new chapter a little early this week. I am on vacation and finally have some time to devote to my writing in large chunks of time instead of squeezing in two or three sentences at a time throughout the day. 
> 
> Thank you to @BookDragon2026 for being my beta!!!

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

Jamie walked out into the bright California sunshine sometime around noon, clad in his typical blue jeans and t-shirt, topped with his leather SAMCWRO vest. He squinted his eyes curiously and laughed as he saw the Prospect, Half-Sack, pondering a BMW with a large deer in the windshield. He casually walked past him, clapping him on the back. "Some days yer the Beamer, and some days yer the deer."

"Very funny, Jamie!" Half-sack called after him. "What am I supposed to do with this thing?"

Jamie turned around briefly, shrugging with a mischievous smile on his face. "I hear venison's good in a stew."

Half-sack threw his hands in the air as Jamie continued to walk toward Dougal at the far end of the lot. “What’s happenin’?” he asked, approaching his stepfather. The tension of the previous night was still fresh in the air.

“Chief Grey paid me a visit this morning, and he has decided no’ to step down,” Dougal replied, a smug smile curving under his moustache.

Jamie shrugged. “I guess yer plan worked then.” Before Dougal could answer, he clapped Jamie on the chest and gestured to the back entrance of the lot. A Leoch Sheriff department car was slowly approaching, and Jack Randall was behind the wheel. He put the car in park and exited the vehicle, approaching Jamie and Dougal with vehement purpose. “To what do we owe this visit, Chief…. oh, excuse me, I mean _Deputy_ Chief,” Dougal greeted him, smiling at Randall like a cat who’d had cream for its supper.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to convince John not to step down, but I just came here to tell you that your days here are numbered, Dougal,” Randall responded. The rage was thrumming palpably through his body.

“Are they now?” Dougal responded casually. “And who exactly is going tae make that happen? The Sons have been here since 1968. We’ve lasted through I don’t even know how many Chiefs and _Deputy_ Chiefs. What makes ye think that yer goin’ to be the one that drives us out?”

“We’ll never be driven o’ of here because the people here need us, respect us,” Jamie jumped in. “Who do the people in this town come to when they have a problem? The police?” he paused to chuckle. “No, they call _us_ when they need something because they ken that we’ll be able to handle things. They _trust_ us. Can you say the same, _Deputy_?”

Randall shifted his gaze and moved in toward Jamie. “You guys ride around here like you’re some kind of goddamn heroes. You think that’s going to last forever? You’re nothing but white trash holding onto a dying dream.”

Jamie smiled in his face, “Ye can’t stop us when the people want us.”

“Do you really think the people around here are going to keep tolerating a bunch of thugs running guns through this town? No. People are getting smarter, wiser. They’re on to you, and _you_ can’t stop progress.” Randall was still seething, all the more because of Jamie’s calm demeanor.

“Is that all ye came for today, _Deputy_?” Dougal asked.

“That, and I just wanted to remind you that one day soon, I will be Chief, MacKenzie. And I’ll still be Chief long after SAMCWRO is nothing but an ugly memory in this town.” With that, he turned on his heel and got back into his car, peeling out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust, the smell of burning rubber briefly permeating the air.

Jamie and Dougal looked at each other and laughed, the tension between them finally easing for the first time in days. Dougal put his arm around Jamie, and they walked toward the clubhouse, shoulders shaking.

They entered the clubhouse to find Rupert and Angus sitting at the bar drinking beers, watching Half-Sack attempt to deal with the deer carcass through the windows. Rupert had only recently returned from a trip to Scotland a few weeks before and with everything that had been going on, had not had a chance to properly catch up on Club gossip.

“Why do ye call the Prospect Half-Sack, anyway?” he asked, taking a long gulp of his drink. The rest of the men all looked around at each other with smirks on their faces. “What?!?!” Rupert asked in an exasperated voice.

Jamie gave one more look around at the men and then focused on Rupert. “Did ye ken that he was in the military, stationed in the Middle East?” Rupert nodded and whirled his finger in the air as if to say _go on_. “Weel, he was caught in a wee explosion. Came out mostly unscathed, but minus one important part.” His eyes roamed down toward his crotch and the rest of the men exploded with laughter. “Let’s just say he doesna have a matching set of the family jewels.”

Unbeknownst to the men, Half-Sack had entered the clubhouse carrying the head of the deer. “Have your laughs now,” he said. “I’ll be getting a prosthetic soon.” This only caused a second eruption of laughter and Half-Sack huffed away, struggling with the large buck’s head.

“What do you think he’s going tae do with that?” Dougal asked.

“Mount it?” Angus offered.

Jamie shook his head, still snickering. “He’s a good lad, even if he isna a Scot and is missing a nut.”

Jamie walked away, heading to his room in the back of the clubhouse. Unlocking the door, he entered the room and looked around. It was small, dim and filthy. Once, he had lived in the house he had bought with Laoghaire, but when they broke up for the second time after she got pregnant, he had moved back into the clubhouse dorms. He was overcome by a longing to be back there, to stop living the life of a bachelor. He wanted a _home_ , not just a space to store his shit and rest his head, but a real home. If he was being honest with himself, his house had never genuinely felt like a home when he was living there with Laoghaire, though, but it was a close approximation. As he lay on his bed, he found his thoughts suddenly drifting to Claire, and he allowed himself to briefly imagine what his life would have been like if she’d never left him. _Would we have made a home together? Had children of our own? Would I still be in this fucked up mess with the Club, or would she have given me the strength to get out? If I’d had the strength to go with her, would we have lived a happy life somewhere else?_

Thinking of what could have been reminded him of his father’s journal, and he sat up, reaching for the box that contained it. Pulling it out, he lay back again, holding the pages above his head, reading.

 _When we take action to avenge the ones we love, personal justice collides with social and divine justice. We become judge,_ _jury, and god. With that choice comes daunting responsibility. Some men cave under that weight. Others abuse the momentum. The true outlaw finds the balance between the passion in his heart and the reason in his mind. The solution is always an equal mix of might and right._

Jamie pondered on that section, wondering if SAMCWRO truly stood on the correct side of right and wrong any longer. Where is the line between doing a thing for the greater good, and doing a thing for the good of oneself? When there was a mutual benefit, how do you decide where one ends and the other begins?

His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. He quickly stuffed the journal underneath his pillow and answered, “Come in.”

It was his mother. She entered the room with a look of disgust on her face. “Jesus, Jamie. It smells like stale beer and sex in here. Do ye ever even crack a window?” She instinctively began tidying things up. “I swear I’ll be cleaning up after you for the rest of my life. I just spent half the day cleaning up your house, too.”

“Ma, come sit down. Ye dindna have tae to do that and you dinna have tae do this either. What’s up? Have ye been to the hospital today?” He sat up and gestured for his mother to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

She did so and gave her son a smile. “I did have tae clean up that shithole. Ye wouldna believe the condition Laoghaire left it in. Yer gonna have tae move back into the house at some point, ye ken. Ye canna live _here_ with a bairn.”

“I ken. I was just thinkin’ the same thing, actually.”

Ellen spotted the box marked _Brian, Misc._ , and bent over to inspect it more closely. She picked up the pictures that Jamie had carelessly thrown in days before and began thumbing through them. “What’s all this? Did ye find it at the storage unit?”

“Aye,” Jamie replied. “It’s mostly junk and old Harley manuals, but he also kept a journal.” He slid the manuscript out from under his pillow and handed it to her.

She put the pictures down and flipped through it. “Yer father was a real good writer, Jamie. I bought him the typewriter he wrote this on, ye ken? What’s this all about anyway?” she handed it back to him.

“Mostly just the history of the Club and some of the ideas he had…. Ma, do ye think Da wanted SAMCWRO to run guns?”

Ellen sighed and touched her son’s cheek with her hand. “Yer father didna know _what_ he wanted, Jamie. Or rather, he knew what he wanted, but it wasna realistic. He was a dreamer, an idealist...just like you.” She lowered her hand and stood, clearing her throat. “I’ll be going to the hospital later. Will I see ye there?”

“I dinna ken. I’ll be stopping by, but I’m no’ sure what time. I told Ian I would have dinner at his house tonight.”

“All right then, I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Bye, Ma. I love ye.”

“I love ye too, lad.”

***

Jamie could hear the Murrays arguing before he even approached the door. He considered turning around and offering some excuse later as to why he couldn’t make it, but Ian had been asking him to come over for weeks, and with all that had been going on, this was his first opportunity to do so. The truth was, he felt a distance growing between himself and his best friend, since Ian had gotten out of prison and he needed to repair whatever rift had opened between them. He _needed_ his best friend to have his back.

He rang the doorbell tentatively, and the muted noises of arguing stopped abruptly. Ian came to the door and grinned at Jamie. “Ye made it!” he said, giving him a brief one-armed hug and clapping him on the back. Jamie handed him the bottle of whisky he had brought, and Ian smiled. “Ah, let’s have a dram while Jenny finishes up supper.”

Jamie followed him into the kitchen. Jenny was standing over the stove, stirring sauce and keeping an eye on a boiling pot. She was a short curvy woman, with a bonny face that featured fierce green eyes. “Smells delicious,” he said, scooping Jenny up and swinging her around.

“Jamie!” she screamed playfully. “Put me down, ye scamp!”

He kissed her on the cheek and put her back on the ground. “My lass, I havena seen ye in sae long. Ye need to stop being a stranger.”

Her grin turned stern and the brief glimpse of the carefree girl he had once known faded back into a stretched, worried face. “Ian and I have agreed we’re no’ going tae spend as much time wi’ the Club, now that he’s home.” Jamie shot Ian a questioning look over Jenny’s head, but Ian just shook his head. Clearly, Jenny was unaware of Ian’s recent activities with the Club. “Why dinna ye go help the bairns set the table, while I finish up.

Jamie left the kitchen and went into the dining room where Ian’s two children, young Jamie and Maggie, were sullenly setting the table. It didn’t take long for Jamie to realize why the children, who had previously been so carefree and cheerful, now wore darkened, tense expressions on their faces. Jamie could hear the argument in the kitchen begin to swell again before he had even shut the door behind him.

Taking a pile of plates out of Maggie’s hands, he tried to ignore the yelling, but the house was small, and it was impossible not to hear.

“ _So, he brings ye a bottle o’ whisky? Our car is about to get repo’d, we canna keep up wi’ our mortgage payments, but thank the lord above that Jamie Fraser has blessed us wi’ a bottle of fine whisky.”_

_“What do ye expect him to bring, Janet? An envelope full of money?”_

_“Weel, I’d expect some sort of help from the Club after ye spent five years in prison for them.”_

_“Did they no’ pay the mortgage and car payments for ye the entire time I was in prison? Did ye expect that to continue? The Club is no’ a charity, Janet. If ye want them to keep paying, ye have tae let me actually **work** for them again.”_

_“I already tole ye that matter was closed, Ian Murray. I willna have ye getting arrested again. I canna bear the thought of facing another five years or more, without ye.”_ Her voice cracked and Jamie could hear that she was crying

“ _Dinna cry, mo chridhe. I promise we’ll figure this out.”_

Their voices faded into murmurs then, and Jamie gave a smile to the children. “Alright, Maggie. Why dinna ye let your mam know we’re ready?”

***

Claire stood off to the side in Laoghaire’s hospital room, watching as the barely-out-of-detox woman signed document after document. Signing away the rights to her son, signing away any liability to the hospital, signing away her custodianship to the court. As the lawyers left the room, Claire approached Laoghaire’s bed. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Sign all those documents. You could have fought it.”

“With what?” Laoghaire asked. “I’ve got absolutely nothing left. It’s better this way.”

“Who brought you the heroin, Laoghaire?”

“What does it matter who gave it to me?” She crossed her arms across her chest and stared out the window.

“Laoghaire, you may be a lot of things, but you are _not_ suicidal. But I have a good idea of who might have wanted you dead,” Claire went on.

Laoghaire shook her head. “Do _not_ go down that path, Claire. Ye know her as well as I do, and pulling that thread is no’ going to help anyone in the end.”

“Did she inject you with it?” Claire demanded.

“No. God no! I stared at that tube for an hour before pumping it into my veins. _I_ did that and no one else.” She paused and chuckled scornfully. “The two women who love Jamie Fraser. Could we be at more opposite ends of the spectrum?”

“I don’t think we’re really that different, Laoghaire,” Claire replied. “But I need to know; why did you do it? Why didn’t you just get rid of it?”

Laoghaire stared out the window again. “If ye don’t know why I did it, then you and I are _nothing_ alike, doc.”

Claire left the room then, seeing she would get nowhere with Laoghaire. She saw Ellen ahead of her on the way to the NICU. Picking up her pace, she caught up with her. “Laoghaire’s out of detox. I just thought you would want to know.”

Ellen turned to face her. “Oh, is that so? And what did the wee junkie have tae say?”

“Nothing. She’s signed all her rights away and the court is going to send her to rehab.”

“Good,” Ellen replied dismissively. “The further away she stays from Willie, the better.”

She started to walk ahead of Claire again, but Claire grabbed her. Ellen stared at Claire’s hand clasped around her forearm, too shocked at her brazenness to say anything. Claire spoke instead. “She could fight it, you know. When she’s clean. She could come back and tell the truth about what you did and get that boy back. And then he won’t be in Jamie’s life either.”

Ellen ripped her arm away and leaned into Claire’s face. “You listen to me, _Miss Rides into Town Thinking She’s a White Knight_ , that wee bairn in there will _never_ call that hoor mommy. I will make sure of that, and nothing anybody can do will stop me, least of all yer interferin’ arse.”

Ellen stalked off and Claire waited a few minutes to put some space between them. Her phone rang then, and she reached into her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw _Restricted_ on the screen and immediately declined the call. _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I’m going to have to change my number again._

***

Later that night, Claire came back from her dinner break and saw Jamie coming out of the NICU. “Hey!” she said, picking up her pace to meet him.

He gave a half-nod at her and raised his eyebrows, a look that made Claire melt a little inside, despite herself. He approached and surprised her by enveloping her into a hug. She sunk into it for a moment until they both realized where they were and what the status of their relationship was. They pulled away awkwardly and Jamie mumbled, “Sorry, I – “

“William’s doing well,” Claire interrupted, knowing an apology could lead to a conversation she was not ready to have. “You’ll be able to hold him really soon.”

Jamie smiled, “I canna wait. Thank ye again, Claire, truly.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

Claire looked down, flustered. “I was just doing my job, Jamie.”

“I ken, but – “

“Laoghaire’s awake. She’s doing well, at least physically. You should stop in and see her. She really needs a friend right now. I’ve gotta go, Jamie.” She turned and walked away quickly, hoping he didn’t see how pink her face was.

***

Jamie knocked on Laoghaire’s door. When there was no answer, he peeked his head in. “Laoghaire?” She was sitting up in the bed staring out the window at nothing. Her face was a storm of emotions and he could tell that she had been crying.

She sniffled and tried to wipe away her tears discreetly. “Do you hate me too?” she asked Jamie as he approached the foot of her bed.

“Hate ye?” He shook his head. “No, Laoghaire, I couldna hate ye.”

She sniffed again, the tears still welling in her wide round eyes, puffy and red around the edges. “That is just so like you, Jamie Fraser,” she scoffed. “I almost kill our child, and ye stand there and forgive me like nothing happened.”

“Weel, I didna say I forgive ye, exactly, but I ken this is not all yer fault.” His fingers nervously twitched on the foot of the bed as he spoke.

Laoghaire laughed quietly. “And I suppose ye were the one pumping me full of heroin the whole time I was pregnant?”

“No, I didna do that, but I might as well have, wi’ the way I treated ye.” He moved and sat on the end of the bed. “I kent getting back together was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. I dinna ken why I did it, now. Lonely? Bored? Whatever the reason was, I kent I shouldna do it, and I did it anyway. That wasna fair to ye. Ye deserve better than that.”

“Boy, ye and yer girlfriend are quite the ones for inspiring speeches today.”

“My girlfriend? Who are ye –, “ he cut off as his breath stuck in his throat. Then, a hoarse whisper, “Claire.”

Laoghaire glared at him smugly, and he realized she had managed to get him off topic. _Christ, she’s a wee besom._ “Dinna change the subject Laoghaire. I’m tryin’ tae tell ye that I’m sorry. When you got pregnant, I left ye, and that was an unforgiveable thing tae do. I was sae angry with ye, and scairt, so I bailed. That’s on me.”

Laoghaire leaned forward and touched Jamie’s arm. “Ye wouldna have been able to stop me, even if ye stayed, Jamie.”

Two small tears dripped from Jamie’s eyes, and he quickly wiped them away. “Do ye want tae see our son?” he asked.

Laoghaire nodded. Jamie helped her out of bed and into a wheelchair. Neither spoke as he rolled her down the hall and into the NICU. She gasped when she saw William. “He’s sae small, Jamie,” she choked out as she began to sob. “Oh God, what did I do? I’m sae sorry.”

Jamie placed a hand on her shoulder while she cried and looked at the tiny baby. When her sobs had calmed, and she could speak, she asked, “What happens next.”

“Willie’ll be in here for a while yet. At least a couple more months. And ye are going to rehab, again.”

She reached up and grabbed his hand, nodding. Jamie went on, “And not that state-run bullshit, either. We’ve already got ye a place in Sunshine Acres. Ye’ll be going there as soon as yer released from here.”

Laoghaire leaned against his arm, dissolving into sobs again. “Thank ye, Jamie. Thank ye.”


	4. Both Sides Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire receives some unexpected help from Ellen; Jamie takes a road trip to Nevada and is forced to face his conflicted feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for all your comments. I am trying to reply to them all, but I'm sorry if I missed any.
> 
> I am having so much fun with this fic and I'm glad so many of you are along for the ride!
> 
> I was on vacation last week so was able to get a little bit ahead with my writing, so I am going to try to stick to a schedule from now on, posting new chapters every Monday.

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

Claire hurried out of her house, hoping to catch Jamie at the garage before the day got away from them. Her father’s old car she had been using was acting up, and she wanted to get it looked at on her day off.

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, she reached into her purse to pull out her sunglasses. She stopped, her blood running cold as she saw the car sitting in the driveway. The hood was covered in pink rose petals.

Grasping behind her for the door handle, she backed into the house and closed the door. She leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. _Frank. He’s here._

Breath still unsteady and hands shaking, she opened the coat closet door and stood on her tiptoes, searching. _Goddammit, where is it?_ Finally, her hand grasped a small shoe box. She pulled it down and began rummaging through it until her fingers clasped around cold metal.

She pulled the gun out of the box and inspected it. She checked to see that it was loaded. Satisfied, she put the safety on and slid the gun into her purse. Taking a few more deep breaths to steady herself, she walked back out the door.

***

Jamie sat at the Table looking at the sober expressions of his fellow club members. _This is bad. This is really fucking bad._

John Grey had paid a visit to Dougal that morning, letting him know he had arrived at work that day to find a Federal agent waiting for him in his office. His name was Frank Randall—no relation to Deputy Chief Jack Randall—from ATF’s Chicago Division, collecting intel on SAMCWRO.

“How can this be happening?” Fergus asked. “We’ve had no busts, no investigations. Why the hell would they be looking into us _now_?”

Jamie spoke up. “This is Jack’s doing, I ken it is.” Dougal gave him an incredulous look, but Jamie went on. “He’s pissed about us putting pressure on Grey to not step down, and this is how he’s getting back at us. He probably called them in about the warehouse fire investigation.”

Dougal slammed his fist on the table. “Enough! It doesna matter _why_ he’s here or _who_ tipped them off! What matters is that we have a fecking literal truckload of disassembled AKs in our back lot and we have tae get them out of here before the ATF finds a reason to come looking for them.” As much as Dougal hated mixing his legitimate business with the Club’s business, they were given no choice but to store the latest shipment of guns on the property. “It’s going to be _months_ before our new warehouse is up and running.”

Suddenly, an idea came to Jamie. “What about Nevada?”

Dougal scowled at him. “What _about_ Nevada?”

“Jared! He’s got plenty o' warehouse space. We could ask him if he could store them there for us, temporarily.”

“Jared? De ye think he’d be willing?” Dougal asked doubtfully.

“He’s my Da’s cousin, and my Da saved his ass in ‘Nam. I _know_ he would do this for me,” Jamie replied.

“I dinna like it,” Murtagh chimed in. “All o’ us ridin’ out to Nevada? That’s bound to get the Fed’s attention.”

“No, yer right,” Dougal said thoughtfully. “But if just Jamie and Rupert were to go, that would no’ attract any attention." He turned to Jamie and pointed a finger at him. “Low profile, ye hear? No cowboy shite!”

Jamie looked hopefully at Rupert who shrugged. “Alright then, it’s a plan?”

“Aye,” Dougal responded, banging the gavel on the table.

***

Claire pulled her car into the garage lot just as Jamie was getting on his motorcycle to leave for Nevada with Rupert. When he saw her pull up, he dismounted the bike and took his helmet off. She put the car in park and stepped out.

“Everything alright?” he asked, walking up to her. She was wearing a low-cut black tank top and jeans that hugged every curve. Her hair was wild, curls whipping around her face as the wind picked up. Jamie felt a sudden pang of regret that he had to leave.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. It’s just, this old car has seen better days. I was hoping you could take a look at it?” She was fidgeting nervously with the keys as she spoke.

Jamie stepped closer and inspected the car. “This was yer Da’s, right?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “It was buried under about two tons of newspaper in the garage.”

Jamie gestured with his head toward the garage. “Take it out back and give the keys to the Prospect. We’ll see what we can do for it.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” she said, starting to get back in the car. She stopped, then turned back around and asked, “Could you maybe give me a ride home?”

Jamie wanted nothing more than to give her a ride, but he could see Rupert waiting anxiously out of the corner of his eye. “I canna. I’m leaving for a wee trip just now.”

“Oh,” Claire responded, disappointment clear on her face. “Um, who should I call then, about William I mean, if there’s anything that comes up?”

Just then, Ellen pulled into the lot. “Call my ma. Oh, and hold on.”

Ellen pulled the car in and parked. She got out as Jamie approached her. “Everything ok?” she asked, eyeing first Jamie and then Claire.

“Yeah, Ma, everything’s fine. Claire was just bringing her car in for a tune up. Can ye give her a ride home?”

“And where are you going?” Ellen asked, lowering her sunglasses at him.

“Nevada.” He pulled her aside and quickly explained what was going on. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and returned to Claire. “My mom will give ye a lift home in a few minutes.” Then, surprising Claire, he gave her a kiss on the cheek, as well, before walking away and joining Rupert.

***

Claire was left standing in the lot, mouth slightly agape at Jamie’s sudden show of affection. From the look on Ellen’s face, she could tell that she was surprised, too. Sputtering a bit, she told Ellen, “You don’t have to give me a ride home. It’s fine. I’ll just—”

“It’s fine,” Ellen responded nonchalantly. “Get in.”

They both got in the car, but as Claire was beginning to buckle, Half-Sack came running out from the garage. “Claire! There’re some forms you have to sign. Come back here for a minute and then we can get you on your way.” Claire smiled apologetically at Ellen and exited the car, leaving her purse behind.

She ran into the garage, quickly signed the paperwork, and returned to the car. Ellen gave her a strange look before putting the car in reverse and heading off the lot.

Ellen was the first to break the silence. "So, is it strange being back in yer house wi'out yer family there?"

Claire shrugged. "I suppose a little. I haven't had much time to think about it, really. Between work and trying to clean out all of my dad's garbage, I've kept myself pretty busy."

"Yer dad a bit of a packrat?"

"That would be the understatement of the year. When I first moved back in there were barely even paths to walk through, but I've made decent progress." Claire spoke tentatively, in disbelief that she and Ellen were having a normal conversation.

"Dougal's like that, too, never throws anything away. I hate clutter."

"I feel you on that."

They pulled into Claire’s driveway and Ellen put the car in park. Claire turned to thank her, but before she could open her mouth, Ellen gave her a hard look. "So, ye want to tell me why yer carrying?"

Claire’s eyes went wide as she felt that familiar anger boil in her stomach. "You went through my purse?"

"I saw it. I'm verra observant." Ellen shrugged. "Don't change the subject."

It was Claire’s turn to shrug. She searched her mind for a way to explain herself. "I lived in a rough neighborhood in Chicago. I started carrying it then. I guess I forgot it was even in there. Anything else you'd like to know?"

She glared at Ellen, clearly not inviting any more commentary, but Ellen went on. "A gun is no' a pack of mints ye lose at the bottom of yer purse."

Claire started to fumble with the seatbelt, hoping to extricate herself from the conversation as quickly as possible. "Thank you for the—"

Ellen cut her off. "Is it legal?"

"Yes. I have a permit. It's registered," Claire answered through gritted teeth.

"Do ye know how to use it?"

_Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, why the fuck does she care?_ Claire put her hand on the door handle. "Yes, I know how to use it. Thanks for the ride, Ellen. It's been—well, thanks." With that she exited the car and slammed the door behind her. She walked to the house without looking back, though she felt Ellen’s eyes boring into her the entire time. Leaning against the back of the closed door, she heard the crunch of tires as Ellen reversed out of the drive.

***

Jamie and Rupert stopped at a gas station along the highway. When they returned to the parking lot, a man was leaning on Jamie's bike while a blonde woman lifted her phone to take a picture. Seeing Jamie and Rupert clad in their leather jackets, she immediately dropped her hands to her side, saying, "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Jamie gave her a wide smile and looked her up and down. _Huge tits, curvy hips, large round ass. Bonny,_ he thought. "No problem darlin'," he replied, finally getting around to look at her face. She had a fat lip, cracked and red with dried blood.

Jamie turned to her companion. "Did ye do that to her?"

The man shrugged, still leaning on Jamie's bike. "She's got a mouth on her. You know how it is."

Jamie's mouth curled into a sinister grin. "Oh, aye. Aye I do. You like Harleys?" he asked, gesturing to his bike. The man shrugged, casually. _Still leaning on my fecking bike, the wee gomerel_ , Jamie seethed.

"I prefer the smaller, slick bikes," the man said. "For speed, ya know?"

Jamie moved closer to him. "Oh, aye, I ken." The tension was thick in the air and he wondered how the idjit leaning on his bike didn't feel it. _This could be to my advantage._ "Do ye want us tae take the picture for ye?" he asked, plucking the phone from the woman's hand and handing it to Rupert.

The man nodded and posed, his arms across his chest and a smug smile on his face. Jamie's fingers twitched against his legs and he cracked his knuckles. "Say cheese," Rupert said, taking the picture. He looked at the screen thoughtfully and smiled. "That'll make a nice before picture."

"Befo—?" the man started, but Jamie's fist cracked into his jaw before he could finish the word.

The blow was hard, out of the blue, and the man went flying to the ground. "Never, touch another man's bike," he growled.

The woman's eyes were wide as she looked from the man to Jamie. "Awesome!" she said finally.

Jamie smirked and pushed his curls back with his hand. He started to approach her, but the man groaned from the pavement. "Shut up, you bitch!"

Jamie turned, swinging his leg around, and kicked the man squarely in the gut. He leaned down close to his face. "That one was for hitting women, like the coward ye are."

Rupert held the camera out and snapped another picture. "There's the after," he said, tossing the phone at the man.

Jamie raised his eyebrows at the woman. "Where ye headed, lass?"

She shrugged. "Nowhere in particular."

Jamie smiled, handing her a helmet. "I'm Jamie." He strapped on his own helmet and mounted the bike, gesturing for her to join him.

"Annalise," she responded. She placed the helmet on her head and eased onto the bike behind him.

Rupert groaned and rolled his eyes. "Are we ready then?"

Jamie gave him a cheeky, lopsided grin. "Aye."

Annalise wrapped her arms around him. He turned to her and shouted over the roar of the bike. "Hold on. I bet ye never had a ride like this before." She giggled in his ear and he took off, leaving Rupert to catch up.

***

They arrived at Jared's club in the late afternoon, hot and sweaty, dying for a drink. At the sound of the approaching bikes, Jared stepped out into the unforgiving Nevada sun, squinting his eyes at the three figures on the bikes. When Jamie took off his helmet, shaking out his curls, Jared's face erupted into a wide smile. "Jamie, lad! Christ, it's good to see ye!"

Jamie approached his cousin and enveloped him in a hug, the two men clapping each other on the back. "What are ye doing here?" Jared asked.

"Got a favor tae ask of ye," Jamie replied. "Let's go inside." He gestured to his travel companions. "Ye remember Rupert, aye?" Jared nodded.

The two turned toward the door with arms around each other's shoulders. Under his breath, Jared asked, "Is that yer old lady?"

"Nah," Jamie replied, shaking his head. "Just someone I met along the way." They walked into the clubhouse, Rupert and Annalise following behind.

Inside, Jared got the men drinks and sent Annalise off with one of the girls hanging around the clubhouse. Once Jamie was settled with a bit of whisky warming his belly, Jared gave him a look that said, _Time to talk business._

Jamie took one last swallow. "We've got quite a problem." He filled Jared in on the situation with the guns and the Feds. "So, as ye can see, we're in need of a place to store and assemble the AKs while ATF is breathing down our necks."

Jared sighed and ran his fingers along his graying beard. "Jamie, ye ken yer father was one o' my best friends and I would hae done anything for him—and _ye_. But this...this is dangerous. My club is legitimate now. We run sports books and strip clubs, no' guns. I cannae risk the ATF coming after me next." He sipped his whisky and looked at Jamie.

Jamie sighed. He knew what to say to Jared to convince him to help, but it didn't sit right with him. It felt like blackmail of a sort. How could he do that to Jared?

Still, he had little choice in the matter. The Club needed to be protected, and Jared was their only option. He took a deep breath, resigning himself to what he needed to say. "Ye ken Grant's men are all over Nevada now, aye?" Jared nodded. "It's no' going to be long before they start circling yer Club, yer businesses."

Jared stared into his glass. "Aye, I ken." Jamie raised his eyebrows at him, encouraging him to go on. "They've already been here, lad."

"Why did ye no' tell us, Jared?"

"Because they've put me in a terrible position. They want a cut of my business. So now, if I refuse him the money, I risk losing everything. But if I give in for the sake of peace, it's a giant 'fuck you' to the Sons. I couldna face that decision, let alone talk to ye or Dougal about it."

Jamie put an arm around Jared. "Don't ye see? This works fer us both. We get a place to store our guns and ye get protection from Grant's men in return. We'll send up some men from the Vegas club to oversee the assembly of the guns, and they'll scare away Grant's men. It's a win-win for both our clubs."

Jared poured more whisky into their glasses and sipped thoughtfully. "Aye," he finally said. "Yer right. Christ yer a cunning lad, just like yer father." He laughed, clapping his hand on Jamie's back.

Jamie smiled. "We have a deal then?" He stuck out his hand.

Jared looked at it and then hugged Jamie instead. "Aye, we have a deal. Tell em to bring the guns. We've a warehouse down the way with a large basement. Ye can store and assemble there." He pulled away from Jamie and smiled. "Now, let's stop all this business talk and celebrate ye being here, eh?"

They both stood, laughing. Jamie spotted Annalise across the room and he smiled at her, ready to get down to the real business of the night. Before he could walk over to her, a slightly inebriated Rupert pulled him into a corner to speak privately.

"Did ye get the business done then?" Rupert asked.

"Aye," Jamie replied. "It's done. It doesna feel right though, taking advantage of Jared like this."

"It's no’ taking advantage if Jared benefits too, ye ken. Plus, we have to protect the club, no matter the cost," Rupert pointed out. He looked at Jamie's worried face. "Are ye alright Jamie? Ye've seemed...different since Willie was born. I ken that's turned ye around a bit but—"

"Turned me around?" Jamie replied, clenching his jaw. "If ye've got something tae say, Rupert, just come out and say it."

Rupert backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "All's I'm sayin is that ye've been contradictin' Dougal at every turn. It's no' good for the club to have that tension all the time."

"Whatever shit is going on between me and Dougal is _my_ business. It's no concern of anyone else."

"It _is_ our concern, though," Rupert shot back. "Everyone can see it." He pointed a finger at Jamie. "Dougal is the president, no' ye. Ye've gotta get right with that." He pressed his finger into Jamie's chest to emphasize his point.

Jamie slowly wrapped his hand around Rupert's finger and removed it from his chest. "We've talked enough about this, Rupert. Conversation over."

Rupert nodded. "Aye. I'm done. I've said my piece."

"Alright then, now, if ye don’t mind, I think someone needs my attention." Jamie nodded at Annalise, who crooked her finger as if to say _come here_.

Jamie licked his lips and started to step away, but Rupert stopped him with an arm across his chest. "One more thing, lad."

"What now?" Jamie scowled.

"What are ye doin' with that hoor?" Jamie gave Rupert a menacing look, but Rupert was not deterred. "Claire's back in yer life, Jamie. Claire! I ken ye never got over her, and now she's back. So what are ye doing with that hoor when ye ever wanted in Leoch."

"Leave Claire o' this, Rupert. Annalise has nothing to do with her."

"And if she found out?"

"She'll no' find out unless somebody here tells her. And yer the only one here who knows." He gave Rupert a hard look, daring him to say something else.

"I'll no' be the one tae tell her. I ken it's yer own business. Just, think about it, aye?"

Jamie had enough. He stalked across the room and grabbed Annalise, pressing her close to his body and kissing her deeply.

***

That night, as the party raged on, Rupert's words stung at Jamie's mind over and over like a determined mosquito. He sat on a couch watching Annalise dance with Mary, the girl she had been hanging out with earlier that day. It was sexy watching her move her hips and grind with another woman, but visions of Claire kept clouding his mind.

If he could think of a way to get the club out of the gun business, he would find a way to win Claire back. He had seen the way she looked at him and felt their connection flare every time they touched, but the time wasn't right. She didn't want to be a part of that life, and he didn't want to pull her into it either.

He imagined them together, as a family, she and Jamie and Willie. He could see Claire holding Willie in her arms, rocking him to sleep. Jamie would slip into the nursery after a long day of work, kiss her on the cheek, and smell the top of Willie's head. He wanted that picture to come true so badly, his wame clenched at the mere thought of it.

"You ready for bed yet?" Annalise asked. Jamie looked up and saw her standing before him teasingly playing with her hair.

He smiled and pulled her down on his lap. She giggled, pressing herself against him. He hardened at her touch. But it was not Annalise he felt as she kissed him, rocking her hips back and forth. _Claire. Oh gawd Claire, to have ye with me like this._ The thought fueled him even more, and he rolled his hips against her. He grabbed her by the back of the hair, kissing her deeply. He closed his eyes and felt her tongue deep in his mouth. _Claire._

Suddenly his mind screamed, _NO!_ and he pushed Annalise off of him.

She looked up, panting and bewildered. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

"Nothing," Jamie responded, trying to be gentle. It wasn't the lass's fault after all. "Ye've done nothing wrong. I just—I can't do _this._ I'll be sleeping alone tonight. Ye'll have tae ask Mary where ye can sleep. In the morning we'll call someone to pick ye up and take ye home." He pushed his hands off the couch and stood, looking down at her. "I'm sorry lass. Yer bonny; it's no' yer fault."

Turning away, he headed out of the room and down the hall, looking for a room to crash in, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to my other fics
> 
> [Blood Sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405049/chapters/58872010) \- An Outlander modern AU taking place in the early 90s
> 
> [Prodigal Son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395800/chapters/58847287) \- A canon divergent Outlander story that begins in the year 1979


	5. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension builds as Frank Randall continues to make his presence in Leoch known; Jamie worries about Ian's future with the club

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

The next morning, Claire was getting ready for work when the doorbell rang. Her palms began to sweat, and her hands shook as she approached the door. Peeking through the blinds that covered the glass, she saw it was only Ellen. Though not the person she wanted to see—even on her best day—she was relieved it wasn't Frank. 

Claire opened the door and said, "Ellen! What a surprise."

"Can I come in?" Ellen asked, pushing her way past Claire without waiting for an answer.

"Sure," Claire mumbled under her breath.

"Christ, ye werena exaggerating about yer father being a packrat."

Claire looked around the dining room, embarrassed by the remaining clutter. Still, it was a huge improvement over the state the house had been in when she first moved back. And what right did Ellen MacKenzie have to show up on her doorstep just to insult her?

"What do you want, Ellen?"

"Yer car's ready. Thought I'd give ye a lift to the garage before ye have tae go to work," Ellen replied, dangling Claire’s keys in front of her."

"Oh," Claire said quietly as she took them. "Thank you."

"We got off tae a bad start. I guess it's my way of saying sorry."

Claire eyed her skeptically. "Ellen, why are you really here? The good Samaritan act doesn't suit you."

Ellen turned on her, blue eyes turning black as her pupils dilated. "The question is, _Claire_ , what are _ye_ doing here? In Leoch? And I want real answers this time. Ye hated this place. Ye said, let me see...ye said that Leoch was, 'incestuous, backward, and close-minded.'" Claire opened her mouth to protest but Ellen raised a finger at her. "No. That's an exact quote, Claire. I dinna forget things."

"I needed to take care of family business," Claire insisted, fists clenched at her sides.

"Ye upended yer whole life tae clean out yer father’s house and work at a mediocre job? I dinna think so Claire. So, I ask again, _what are ye doing here?"_

"You've spent a lot of time and energy worrying about my life, Ellen," deftly dodging the question. "Why is that? Does my presence intimidate you?"

Ellen snorted. "I'm no' worried about _ye_. Ye ken verra well who I'm worried about. I havena forgotten, Claire. I havena forgotten how ye broke my son's heart. Ye were his world, Claire, his entire world. And ye just left him like he was nothing to ye. It took years for him to start living again, and now ye waltz back in here, looking down yer nose at us, sniffing around him again."

"Jamie and I are adults now, Ellen. We don't have to do what you say."

"That's where yer wrong, Claire. I am his mother, and I will do _anything_ to protect my son. And I think ye ken that well."

"I think you should go," Claire finally responded, gesturing to the door.

Ellen walked past but turned as she reached the door and dug into her purse. "Look, I dinna ken why ye need to be carryin' a gun, but if ye have tae, be safe about it." She pulled a small pistol out of her purse and handed it to Claire. "No serial numbers."

Before Claire could answer, she turned again and walked out the door.

***

Jamie woke with a screaming headache, the light shining in through the blinds burning his eyes. He groaned and rolled over. All he wanted to do was go home and see Willie...and Claire.

Thinking of Claire made him think of Annalise, and he was not ready to face _that_ situation...or Jared, for that matter. He sat up and rubbed his head. _How the hell am I always getting myself into these situations? Christ, can't I do anything right?_

He leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed at his backpack. He pulled out his father's manuscript and turned to the page he had marked.

_Anarchy. The concept was pure, simple, true. It inspired me. It lit a rebellious fire, but ultimately, I learned the lesson that others have before me. True freedom requires sacrifice and pain. Most human beings only think they want freedom. In truth they yearn for the bondage of social order, rigid laws and materialism. The only freedom a man truly wants is the freedom to be comfortable._

Did he want freedom, or did he want to be comfortable? And what did comfortable mean? Was it comfort to keep going along as he was, doing Dougal's bidding and falling further into the life of an Outlaw? Was that the easy way? It certainly didn't feel easy, but when he thought of what it would take to extricate himself from this life and live how he wanted, with Claire by his side, the obstacles seemed insurmountable. Was that what his father meant by sacrifice and pain? Was Claire his true freedom?

Sighing, he laid back down on the bed. _One thing at a time, Fraser,_ he told himself. _First ye have to get out of this morning's mess. Then ye can think about the rest o' yer life._

He closed his eyes and was considering just going back to sleep when there was a knock on the door. "Jamie!" Rupert bellowed. "Get yer arse up. It's time to go."

Jamie opened the door and saw Rupert standing there with a huge smile on his face. "Christ, how are ye so chipper?"

Rupert rubbed his beard thoughtfully and said, "If ye'd spent the night with the lassie I did, ye'd be smiling too."

Jamie shook his head, chuckling. All the tension of the day before had dissipated. That was part of the reason he liked Rupert so much; the man was honest to a fault. He would tell Jamie exactly what was on his mind, but once he said his piece, he let it go. He let Jamie marinate in what he had said and make his own decisions.

"Good news for ye, lad." Rupert went on. "Annalise has left the building. She was gone before I even got up."

Jamie sighed with relief. "Well, that's one problem solved. Let me get dressed and I'll meet ye in ten minutes."

Rupert closed the door. Jamie smiled as he quickly got dressed. He was ready to go see his son. _And Claire._

***

In the early evening, Claire stood at the nurse's station outside the NICU. An envelope had been delivered while she was eating dinner. She flipped it over. _No return address. No stamp. Hand delivered._

She began to slip her finger under the seal when the elevators dinged. She looked up and saw Jamie. He was grinning and locked eyes with her immediately. His red curls were still wet from a shower. He wore a blue t-shirt underneath his leather vest, making his blue, cat-like eyes pop. She smiled back and set the envelope on the counter.

He approached and scooped her into a bear hug without any preamble. As he squeezed her tight, she hoped he couldn't feel the way her heart thumped in her chest at his touch, wouldn't notice her unsteady breath. She could smell him as she leaned in. _Motor oil, leather, and dove soap._

He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She pushed him away gently, blushing and looking around to see who may have noticed. Straightening her white coat, she smiled at him. "He's ready to move up to the next level NICU soon. He's doing so well, Jamie."

Jamie's grin widened. "All I could think about while I was away was getting back tae see him." _And you, Claire._

"Well, go see him then, _daddy_." She grabbed his arm and turned him around toward the NICU, unable to stop herself from smiling. His enthusiasm over his son melted her heart.

She watched him through the window as he bent down toward the incubator. He looked absolutely ridiculous in the yellow cap and dressing gown he wore. She could see his lips moving, and in her mind, she could hear him quietly praying over his child in Gaelic. He looked up and caught her eye, so she glanced quickly away. Her eyes moved to the counter she was leaning on, spotting the large envelope she had forgotten.

Absent-mindedly, she picked up the envelope and opened it. She pulled out a grainy black and white photo; it had obviously been taken from far away with a powerful camera. She couldn't make out the features of the two people in the photo, but the cock of the head and set of his shoulders gave Jamie away instantly. _Jamie kissing another woman._ She flipped to the next picture, even grainier than the first. _Jamie sitting on a couch, the woman sitting astride him, their faces pressed together._ Written at the top of that picture in black sharpie were the words _Last night. 11:37 PM._

Hands shaking, she stuffed the pictures back into the envelope. She gave Jamie one final glance; as if he sensed her looking again, he lifted his head up and gave her a soft smile. Claire turned her head and walked away.

***

The next morning, Jamie and Ian were both rummaging through Ian's shed while Jenny stood by, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun. Though Jamie had gotten a lot of items for Willie from his mother's storage shed, there were still plenty of things he needed. When he mentioned this to Ian, his friend had invited him to his house to go through wee Jamie and Maggie's old things.

It felt good to be with his best friend again, throwing back a couple of beers while they worked together in the hot sun. Even Jenny was on her best behavior today, greeting Jamie cheerfully and supervising them in the yard, teasing them occasionally.

"Thank ye both so much for all of this stuff," Jamie said, throwing back the last swig of his beer. "I _think_ I might have everything I need now." He turned to Ian who was headed toward Jamie's truck with a pack n play. "How much do ye want for all this?"

Ian waved a hand dismissively at Jamie as he walked away. Jamie turned his gaze to Jenny and found her frowning. He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and counted out several twenties before squeezing them into her hand.

She nodded at him and slipped the money into her pocket. "Thank ye, Jamie. Every little bit helps right now."

"I ken," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "It should be me that's thanking ye. I ken the little man willna be home for some time yet, but I want everything ready for him."

"Who's gonna watch the baby during the day, Jamie?" Jenny asked curiously.

"I suppose my Ma will help some, and I was thinkin' o' calling on Mrs. Fitz to see if she would want to help."

"Mrs. Fitz!" Jenny exclaimed. "She watched all of us kids when _we_ were bairns. Christ, I'm surprised we didna give that poor woman a heart attack. I dinna know how she managed to keep track o' the entire neighborhood at once, wee heathens that we were." They both laughed together thinking of all the trouble they had managed to get into.

"What's so funny?" Ian asked as he returned from the truck.

"We were just reminiscing about Mrs. Fitz," Jamie replied.

Ian chuckled. "I can still hear her. _'Git back here, ye wee heathen, or I'll tan yer hide!'"_ Jamie and Jenny laughed at the all too accurate impression. 

Before he left, Jamie turned to Ian and said, "So, I'll see ye later?"

"What's later?" Jenny asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. The light mood was suddenly gone, and Jamie could hear a mild panic in her voice.

"My Ma's fundraiser is today and Ian's helping set up. And he's doing the fireworks tonight."

"Oh, he is, is he?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Jenny," Ian said, exasperation clear in his voice, "it's no' a club thing. It's Ellen’s fundraiser."

"Aye," Jamie chimed in. "She does it for the school every year; ye ken that."

Ian grabbed Jenny around the waist and pulled her in close. "I thought we could all go as a family. It would give me some time tae spend wi' the bairns, too."

Jenny sighed and acquiesced. "Alright, I suppose it's fine."

Jamie flashed his most charming smile. "Thanks Jenny! See ye later, Ian!" With a wave, he left them and headed back to the truck.

***

After unloading the baby things at his house, Jamie decided to stop at the hospital to see Willie again before going to the school to help his mother. He sat in the rocking chair next to the incubator reading _Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel_ , another favorite from his childhood.

When he finished, he closed the book and leaned forward, placing a hand on the plastic. "Sorry, little man. I ken I'm no' as good at the voices as grandma, but yer gonna have to learn to put up with yer Da at some point."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he suddenly had the distinctive feeling that he was being watched. Turning around slowly, he glanced out the NICU window and saw a man he had never seen before looking at him. He was of average height and slight build, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. The man nodded at him and Jamie narrowed his eyes in return.

He said goodbye to Willie and walked out of the NICU, discarding the yellow outer garments in the bin on his way out. He was sure the man would have disappeared by the time he made his way around to the window, but there he was, still looking at Willie.

As Jamie approached, the man turned to him nonchalantly. "Beautiful boy," he said, smiling. Before Jamie could respond, the man walked away, leaving him standing there, dumbfounded and trembling.

***

Claire woke with an unrelenting knot in the pit of her stomach. She turned over and looked at the alarm clock. It was already noon and she had to be at the hospital by two. She groaned and flipped over on her stomach. She thought of nothing but the pictures since she had seen them, flip-flopping between anger and fear.

Logically, she knew that she had no claim on Jamie. They hadn't been a couple in over ten years, and she had been the one to leave him in the first place. Still, she couldn't help but think of him as _her_ Jamie.

How could she not? He had been hers as long as she could remember. From the time he rescued her when she was too scared to step down the ladder of the tree house, to the day he first kissed her while playing truth or dare, he was hers. He had been her first love, and if she was being honest with herself, her only true love.

She dated other men in their time apart, even loved a few of them. But since Jamie, she never again experienced that _connection_ with a man. When Jamie touched her, even the most chaste of gestures, it ran deep through her body and into her soul, as if merging them together in some sort of inscrutable tangle.

In her head, she knew time had not stood still while she was gone. With the life he led, surely Jamie had been with many women, more than she cared to think about. He had been married for Christ’s sake! But as long as he was out of sight, she could keep him in her heart, frozen in time as the eighteen-year-old boy she loved.

The reality was he was not hers, and she had no right to be mad at him. At the same time, he was the one who had been kissing and hugging her the last few times they met. Surely, he was at least thinking about rekindling their romance, something Claire wasn't even sure _she_ wanted. The sad fact was while she didn't know if she wanted to be with him again, she didn't want him to be with anybody else either. _Stop being so fucking selfish, Beauchamp._

Even more important was that she had to deal with the Frank situation. She _knew_ he was in town. Nobody else would put those rose petals on her windshield. Pink roses had been _their_ thing. And what reason would anybody else have for giving her those pictures?

She briefly thought of Ellen as a possible suspect but reminded herself that Ellen had been in her living room the previous morning. There was no way she followed Jamie to Nevada just to take pictures of him with another woman and then returned to Leoch early the next morning to harass Claire. The approach was too sneaky, too subtle, which was not really Ellen's style anyway.

No, it was surely Frank, and she needed to get ahead of him. Glancing at the clock again, she wondered if she had time to go to the courthouse and have her restraining order reviewed by a judge there to see if it was valid in Leoch. Either way, she knew it was just a glorified piece of paper and would do nothing to stop Frank if he really wanted to get to her.

She thought of the gun, heavy in her purse. That was her true insurance policy. But if she knew the restraining order was valid here, she would have further justification if forced to use the gun on him. The thought of shooting _anybody_ , even Frank, made her sick to her stomach, but she would do it if she had to.

Deciding a shower was more urgent than getting to the judge today, Claire rolled out of bed and began her daily routine as if the world wasn't falling apart around her.

***

Jamie arrived at the fundraiser in the early afternoon. He went to his mother's booth and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Looks like ye have this well in hand, Ma. What can I do tae help?"

She nodded toward the direction of the school. "Ye can help Ian. He's setting up the stage for the band later."

"Aye. See ye later, Ma. Great job with this, as always." He went to Ian who was hammering down the floor of a makeshift stage. Jamie grabbed a hammer and some nails and started helping him.

They worked in companionable silence for a time, hammering away, handing each other nails, until Ian said, "Ye ken the club means everything tae me."

Jamie paused and looked at his best friend thoughtfully. "Aye, I ken."

Ian sat down on the platform. "I just canna seem to get my life to come taegather right now. I have the club, and I have Jenny and the bairns, and I have my job at that stupid fecking factory, but canna seem to figure out how to get them all to fit into place. How tae connect them."

Jamie gave him a wry smile. "I hope yer no looking tae me for advice. Christ, look at me Ian. I've got a two-week old preemie in the NICU, an ex-wife in rehab, and an ex-girlfriend back in town. I'm so used tae things not connecting, I dinna ken what I would do wi' myself if they actually did."

Ian chuckled and looked at Jamie. "Aye, ye are a mess."

They both erupted in a fit of laughter like they had as little boys, unable to stop themselves, each glance at each other causing further hysterics. "Less laughing, more work!" Ellen yelled at them from her booth, but that just resulted in them laughing even harder.

***

Claire stood at the nurse's station reading over a chart. Her shift had just started, and she already felt exhausted. Using one hand to massage her forehead, she struggled to concentrate.

"Hello, Claire."

Her heart pounded in her chest and she jumped. When she looked up, there he was standing less than two feet away... _Frank fucking Randall._

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Frank. What the hell are you doing here?" Panicked, she looked around and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the doctor's lounge. It was, thankfully, empty.

"Claire," he said, moving in close. She put up a hand to stop him, and he stepped back. "Look, darling, I just want to talk."

Claire crossed her arms and said, through clenched teeth, "There's nothing to talk about."

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm in town on official ATF business," he said casually, "investigating an interstate weapons case. SAMCWRO is involved."

"Oh, and were the rose petals on my windshield part of your official business?"

He ignored the question and went on. "I just don't want to see you get caught up in this mess."

"I'm not getting caught up in anything, because I'm not _with_ him, Frank." She was seething and her hands dropped to her sides, fists clenched so hard she could feel her nails digging into her skin. "That restraining order is still in effect. I could go to the police right now."

"I think you'll find that my Federal jurisdiction takes precedence over any state orders," he replied, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "But no matter. I won't be bothering you again." He turned to leave and then looked over his shoulder. "It was nice to see you, Claire. I miss talking to you."

When he left the room, Claire sunk to her knees, shaking and sobbing, praying that no one would find her this way.

***

That night at the fundraiser, as the high school band Ellen hired was tuning up to play, Jamie spotted Jenny standing off by herself, keeping an eye on the kids. He gave her a wave and walked over to her.

"Thanks for money again today, Jamie. Things have been rough." she said after he greeted her.

"Aye, I ken," he answered. "Look, Jenny, I ken ye never felt connected to the club the way some old ladies do, but ye ken SAMCWRO is important tae-"

Jenny put her hand up to stop him. "Ye can save me the speech about SAMCWRO being the glue. Yer Ma already gave it to me earlier."

"I'm no' talking about SAMCWRO, Jenny. I'm talking about you and Ian."

"Ye can keep yer neb out of our business, Jamie."

"Ian is my best friend, so it _is_ my business. I'm scared for him. He canna be half in and half out. It's gonna get him killed."

Jenny's face turned beat red and she stood on her tiptoes to get closer to Jamie's face. "Then I want him _out!_ "

Jamie was calm; he'd dealt with Jenny's temper a hundred times before and knew her bark was worse than her bite. "He'll never leave the club, Jenny. He and I, we were born into this life. It's all we know; it's in our DNA. If ye keep pulling him away, all yer gonna do is tear him apart."

Jenny was still fuming when Jamie walked away. Heading toward his mother's booth, he spotted the man from the hospital earlier that day. He thought about trying to catch up to him, but thoughts of what his mother would do to him if he started a fight at her fundraiser stopped him. Instead, he found his mother and led her over to where she could see him herself. "Do ye ken who that man is, Ma?" There was rarely a person who entered Leoch without his mother knowing about it within hours.

"Aye, I do," she answered. "John told me earlier. That's yer friendly neighborhood ATF agent, Frank Randall."

" _Ifrinn_!"

"What is it?" Ellen asked.

"He was at the hospital today watching me with William."

Ellen gasped. "Christ."

"Don't say anything to Dougal, Ma. I'll handle this."

Ellen nodded. "I have tae get back to the booth, but I'll tell John to keep an eye on him."

Jamie nodded at his mother, but his mind was already a million miles away. _What was this guy's angle?_

Just then, he felt a familiar arm slip through his. "Claire."

"Hey," she answered. "I got off work early, thought I'd come see the fireworks." Just then, the first stream of light soared into the air bursting at its apex into a circle of twinkling red and blues and greens. "Looks like I'm just in time!"

Jamie smiled at her and took her hand. "Aye, I guess ye are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to my other fics
> 
> [Blood Sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405049/chapters/58872010) \- An Outlander modern AU taking place in the early 90s
> 
> [Prodigal Son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395800/chapters/58847287) \- A canon divergent Outlander story that begins in the year 1979


	6. Between Two Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gun deal brings the ATF to the club's doorstep; Frank's behavior escalates

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

The sun was scorching despite the early hour and Jamie was sweating in his t-shirt and leather vest. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and watched the two men who stood a safe distance away, examine the AK-47s. They were both men of smaller stature, a father and son, almost mirror images of each other if it hadn't been for the deep age lines etched in the father’s face. They both wore white t-shirts and military fatigues.

The older man, Ronald McNab, was an old war buddy of Murtagh, stood next to Jamie. Murtagh trusted the man, so Jamie had no reason _not_ to trust him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this deal was not a good idea. It was the son that worried Jamie more. Rabbie McNab had a nervous energy about him, _twitchy_ , Jamie thought.

None of this felt right, but they _needed_ to offload some of these guns. They'd had to slow their shipments significantly due to the loss of the warehouse, and their suppliers were getting anxious about the lack of cash flow. Some had threatened to end their exclusive deals with SAMCWRO if the orders didn't pick up soon.

"Ye trust these guys, Murtagh?" Jamie asked for the third time that day.

"Dinna fash, Jamie, lad. I've kent Ronald since our years in the Army. He's a good man." Murtagh assured him.

The father and son finished their inspection of the guns and gestured Jamie and Murtagh over. "We have a deal then?" Murtagh asked. Ronald nodded, handing Jamie an envelope.

Jamie counted the money carefully. "Yer about 5k short." He gave the McNabs a menacing look.

Ronald laughed nervously and looked at Murtagh. "I thought we were getting the family discount?"

"10K _is_ the family discount," Jamie told him.

The younger McNab chimed in. "These go for a grand each on the streets."

"Oh yeah?” Jamie asked, moving closer to them. "And when's the last time either of ye been on the streets?"

Murtagh put up both his hands in a calming gesture. "Gentleman, please. I'm sure they no' meant to try to stiff us, Jamie." He looked at Ronald with a raised eyebrow. "Right, Ronnie?"

Ronnie reached in his pocket and took out a second envelope, handing it to Jamie. "No harm meant." Jamie counted it and nodded to Murtagh.

"Good tae see ye, Ronnie," Murtagh said, shaking hands with him. "Let us ken if ye need anything else." He and Jamie walked away, getting into Jamie's truck and driving off.

***

A few hours later, Jamie arrived at the garage. Dougal approached him as he got off his bike. "How'd it go this mornin?" he asked.

"Fine," Jamie replied, taking off his helmet and shaking out his curls. "Those jarheads were dicks, but it seemed to make Murtagh happy."

"Were ye followed at all?"

"Nah," Jamie replied. "I doubled back three times; no one was followin' us."

"That's a good lad." Dougal clapped Jamie on the back. "New shipment of AKs came this morning. We're storing them in one of the trucks out back."

"Do we need tae take them to Nevada?"

"No, Sandrigham's goin tae take them off our hands tonight." Dougal smiled smugly.

"That was a quick -"

"Jamie!" Half-sack came running at them in a panic. "The Feds! The Feds are here!"

Dougal and Jamie exchanged a glance as three black cars pulled into the lot. Placing a hand on Jamie's tensed shoulder, Dougal said softly, “Easy lad. I got this."

They walked casually toward the cars as several local police, including Jack Randall, and Federal agents stepped out of the vehicle. Jamie did not see Frank Randall among them. Instead, a slim brunette approached them. Though she was not very tall, she carried herself as someone who was accustomed to commanding the room. "Are ye limo drivers?" Dougal asked with a sly quirk of a smile.

"Very amusing." The woman reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a badge. "Detective Dunsaney, ATF. I'm looking for the owner of MacKenzie-Fraser Auto Repair."

"That'd be me," Dougal said. Jack Randall approached Dougal from behind and pulled his arms back, placing him in handcuffs. "Are ye gonna tell me what I'm being charged wi'?" Dougal asked.

"No charges yet." Detective Dunsaney smiled at Dougal. "We just need to take you down to the station to ask you some questions about your relationship with Ronald McNab."

Dougal turned to Jamie and gave him a questioning look. Jamie looked away, his eyes searching the lot for Murtagh. "Who?" Dougal was genuinely bewildered.

"He held up a prison transport this morning," Dunsaney answered. "Killed three people with AK-47s." Dougal kept his face stoic. "We found Mr. McNab's cell phone at the scene. The last call made on it was to _your_ garage." She raised her eyebrows at him, but he didn't flinch. "Now if you'll come with us."

She took Dougal by the arm and led him to one of the cars. His eyes locked with Jamie's and gave him a nod as Dunsaney pushed his head down, helping him into the car.

It was all Jamie could do to not spring into action immediately. His body was tense, coiled like a spring at its breaking point. As soon as the cars pulled out of the lot, he turned to talk to Murtagh, who had joined him along with Ian.

Murtagh spoke first. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I called McNab from the garage to confirm the meet. I – “

Ian placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. "Ye had no way tae ken that's what they were going tae do, Da."

Murtagh shrugged the hand off his shoulder. "I'll no' get out of this so easily, _mo mac._ I set up the meet. I vouched for McNab. This is on me."

"Just reach out to him. Ye have tae get to him before the Feds do." Jamie said. His jaw was clenched, and he drummed his fingers on the side of his leg.

"Ronald would no' rat!" Murtagh hissed.

"But his dipshit son might," Jamie shot back.

"Da, it's only a matter of time before the Feds connect ye with McNab and come after ye too." Ian pointed out.

"I dinna care!"

"I do," Jamie said plainly. He looked at Ian. "Take him to the cabin."

"Oh, yer callin’ the shots now?” Murtagh was seething.

“Aye. I am. The last I checked, I’m the one who wears the VP patch, which means that as long as Dougal is in handcuffs, this shite lands on my back!”

Murtagh made a derisive grunt in the back of his throat. “Aye. On the back of a bairn.” He turned and stalked off.

Ian looked at Jamie. “He’s just mad at himself.”

“Look Ian, I know McNab saved Murtagh’s ass in ‘Nam, but the rest of his crew? Killing cops and innocents?” Jamie shook his head in disgust.

Ian nodded at him. “I ken.”

They walked into the clubhouse together. Murtagh was on one of the burner phones and he put a finger up to Jamie. When he hung up the phone, he told them, “I got a hold of McNab. They’re holed up in some survivalist bunker.”

“Set up a meet.”

“Then what?” Murtagh asked.

“Christ, Murtagh,” Jamie growled. “Do I have tae spell it out for ye? They killed three people in cold blood and their trail leads right back to the Club. What do ye think is goin’ tae happen. Now, I said, set it up. And then get yerself up tae the cabin and stay hid.”

***

Dougal was released from police custody sometime during the night. After talking to Jamie briefly, he headed up to the cabin to meet with Murtagh and handle the situation with the McNabs. Relieved of the responsibility, Jamie went to the hospital to visit Willie.

When he got off the elevator on the maternity ward, his mind was still racing with worry about all that happened in the last few days. He saw Claire standing at the nurse’s station and walked over to her. “Hey.”

She jumped and put her hand to her heart. “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie. You scared me.”

He put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. Why are ye sae jumpy?”

She ignored his question. “I drove by the garage yesterday and saw a bunch of cops there. Is everything ok?”

He pulled her aside, speaking low. “It’s just a bunch of bullshite. We’ve got the ATF on our asses.” He saw the admonishing look on her face and put up a hand to stop her. “They dinna have anything on us. But one of the agents, he’s been following me; he even showed up here.” Her face was still etched with worry. “Claire, the guy is just nuts; he’s looking for dirt that doesna exist.”

"I have about an hour left on my shift. Can I get a ride home after?" Her eyes were still worried, looking around as if she expected someone else to jump out and scare her.

He reached out and placed his hands on both of her arms. "Aye, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, pursing her lips. "It's just been a shitty day and my nerves are shot."

"Alright. I'll be with the bairn. Come find me when yer ready." He leaned forward and tentatively placed a small kiss on her forehead.

***

An hour later, Claire found herself straddling Jamie's bike behind him, strapping a helmet on. She tried to steady her breath. She hadn't expected the rush of emotions at being with him like this, the way she had spent countless days and nights in their youth. The bike felt both familiar and different, but always that underlying feeling of safety she had forgotten until that moment.

He started the engine and she felt the familiar hum between her legs, embellishing the one that had already been there from his presence. He turned his head to look back at her. "You alright, lass?"

She nodded and slid her arms against his waist. With only the slightest hesitation, she rested her head on his back, pushing her body into his familiar warmth. She felt relaxed and secure for the first time in weeks, as he rode away.

She was unaware of anything but him as he navigated the streets. He could have taken her anywhere and she wouldn't have noticed, wouldn't have cared. _Take me away, Jamie. Come with me this time. Come find me._

There was no point in denying it to herself anymore. She wanted him, had never stopped wanting him. She didn't want this life, but she wanted _him_. How could she not? Her body had always fit perfectly with his; she could feel herself melting into his back. She wanted that, to melt into him, to allow her body to meld with his until she couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

They pulled into her driveway and she reluctantly released her hold on him. They both dismounted and she took off her helmet, handing it to him. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem." He looked around the empty driveway. "Where's yer car? Is it no' workin' again?"

“No, it’s fine. I just – “

“Does this have something to do with that car that’s been following us?” He nodded toward the street and she looked over his shoulder to see the car sitting in front of the house next door. Drawing in a sharp breath, she hurried toward her front door, Jamie following. When she reached the door, he grabbed her by the arm. “Claire, what is going on?”

She breathed out shakily, her hands trembling. “Jamie, I’m sorry. That ATF agent who came to the hospital? He’s here for me.”

Jamie looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“I dated him, in Chicago. It was good at first, but then he…. he got violent.” Jamie’s hands gripped her arms tighter. “When I tried to end it, he started stalking me.” Jamie turned and stormed away. “Jamie, stop! Don’t! He’s dangerous.”

He turned around and pointed a finger at her. “Get in the house, Claire. And lock the door.” Unable to do anything else, she did as he asked.

***

Jamie pulled his knife from his pocket as he approached the car. Without hesitation, he plunged the knife into the grill, piercing the radiator. Water and steam rose from the under the hood. Frank Randall opened the car door, stepped out, and started speaking calmly. “Vandalism and carrying a deadly weapon. Six months in county.”

“What about violating a restraining order? Ye’ll be in the cell next to me.” Jamie slowly approached Frank, keeping a steady control on his thrumming body.

Frank gave him a derisive look and sniffed. “Bad ass biker, hmmm? What are you going to do now?”

“Ye gave it yer best shot, Randall. Ye got nothing on SAMCWRO. Now, if ye want to waste yer time sniffing around the club some more, be my guest. I’ll even give ye a tour. But you harassing Claire? That ends now.”

Frank put his hands in his pockets and looked at Jamie thoughtfully. “Are you threatening a Federal agent, Mr. Fraser?”

“I’m threatening _you_. Leave her alone. I won’t give ye another warning.” Before Frank could answer, he turned around and walked away. His body was trembling with the fight to control his anger, matching the rumble of the motorcycle as he got on and rode away,

He went straight to the Leoch police station, storming into Jack Randall’s office. “Randall!” he roared. “Get yer ATF boyfriend under control!”

Jack stood up, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “Frank Randall? He’s not on my payroll, Jamie. I can’t control what he does.”

“He’s here for Claire, ye fecking idjit.”

“Jamie, what are you talking about?”

“He was stalking her in Chicago. He’s just using this bullshit investigation to get close to her.” Jack’s face had gone pale. “This guy is nuts and he’s going tae hurt her.”

Jack sat slowly back in his chair. Under his breath, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, that’s who she had a restraining order against?”

Jamie lunged toward him, stopping himself with his hands on the desk. “You kent?”

Jack started fidgeting with a pen, tapping it nervously on the desk. “She came to me, asking some questions about whether or not a restraining order she got in Chicago would be valid here. Jamie, I told her I would help her, but she didn’t want it. I had no idea it was Frank.”

Jamie’s fingers clutched the edge of the desk, his fingertips turning white. “This is my problem, Jamie. Let me handle it,” Jack said.

Jamie took several deep, steadying breaths before saying, evenly, “You better. Or I’m goin’ tae.

***

Jamie went back to the clubhouse, looking for Dougal. “Is the McNab situation handled?” he asked when he saw him.

“Aye,” Dougal replied. "Murtagh set up a meet, and I went out wi’ him and Ian to sell them the rest of the AKs. After the deal was made and they went back to their bunker, Ian set off some explosives he’d wired earlier. No more McNabs.”

“How’s Murtagh handling it?”

“He’s a wee bit shaken up, but he’ll be fine. Any more news on the ATF?”

“Nah,” Jamie replied. “I havena heard a word about them. Do ye need me for anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

“I’m going up tae the roof tae think.” Dougal gave him a curious look at this but nodded.

The roof of one of the garage’s outbuildings had been Jamie’s thinking place since he had outgrown his treehouse. He stopped in the clubhouse to grab his father’s journal before climbing the metal stairs to the top. Pacing the flat surface, he gripped the pages in his hands absent-mindedly.

 _What the fuck am I going to do?_ Everything was spinning out of control, and every time he stuck his hand in to stop it, things only got more frenzied. _How the fuck am I going to get out of this mess_. Everything was so tangled together: Frank, the ATF, Claire. Was there a way to extract them from this web without hurting someone, or all of them?

Finally calmed by his pacing, he sat down against a ledge. He opened the journal, hoping desperately for some glimmer of an answer, anything he could hold on to.

_The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary. I'm not any smarter than I was 30 years ago. I've just grown too tired to juggle the lies and hide the fears. Self-awareness doesn't reveal my indiscretions, exhaustion does._

Sighing, he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. He _did_ feel weary. Only thirty years old and he was tired, so tired of all of this. Tired of the lies, tired of running, tired of life being a fight every single day.

He would do what he needed to do to protect Claire. That was the only clear answer in his mind. He would protect her and figure out the rest later.

***

Hours later, Claire was sitting in the doctor’s lounge, reading over charts before starting her shift. She hadn’t talked to Jamie since he left her house that morning, and she’d heard nothing of Frank either. _Focus, Beauchamp._

The lounge door opened, and Jack Randall walked in. Claire had no reason to think he was there for her, so she nodded at him briefly and went back to her notes. He pulled up a chair and sat with her at the table. “Why didn’t you tell me it was Frank?”

Surprised, she looked up. “Jamie told you?”

He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me, Claire? We’ve known each other since we were kids. Didn’t you think I would help? I could have done something.”

Claire sniffed out a small laugh and closed the chart in front of her. “You know, I tried to get help in Chicago, did all the right things. I went to his superiors; it just made things worse.” Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “I had to go to three different precincts before I could even get someone to listen to me, so that I could get the restraining order. So, what do you think _you’re_ going to do, Jack?”

“It’s already handled, Claire. I made some calls to Chicago; his boss doesn’t even know he’s here. They think he’s on vacation.” He leaned forward and placed a hand on hers. “He’s in deep shit, Claire. He’s leaving. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Her hands were trembling. “He’s leaving?”

Jack nodded. “Yes. He’s leaving Leoch today and he won’t be bothering you anymore. He’s done.”

She swallowed and removed her hand from under his. “Thank you, Jack,” She gathered her charts and stood, walking toward the door to start her shift.

It wasn’t long before she ran into Jamie in the NICU, sitting by William’s incubator. “Hey,” she said, giving him a weak smile.

He rose quickly from the chair, moving toward her. “Ye alright? He hasna bothered ye again, has he?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I ran into Jack Randall a little while ago. He assured me that Frank is leaving. Thank you for handling that.”

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief and put an arm around her gently. “Yer welcome, Claire. Ye dinna have tae worry about him anymore. Ye’ll be safe as long as I’m wi’ ye.”

***

Frank Randall might be leaving town, but he wasn’t going to leave without making his mark. Early that evening, Jamie’s cell phone rang, and his mother was on the other end. Her voice was angry and panicked as she told him to meet her at his house right away.

Standing in the doorway of the nursery next to his mother, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The entire room was trashed. The window had been broken, allowing the intruder in, and glass was scattered on the floor. The shelves that Jamie had painstakingly built and attached to the wall were ripped down. The contents of the changing table were scattered on the floor; the table itself had been smashed against the wall, breaking it in two. The only thing intact was the crib itself, though the mobile was snapped in half. “Well, at least he left the crib,” Jamie mumbled under his breath, too stunned to say anything else.

“Oh, no, Jamie. Think again. The crib mattress is soaked in piss,” Ellen told him. “Who did this?”

“ATF,” Jamie answered simply, walking slowly into the room.

‘Why Jamie? Why would the ATF come here and trash the nursery? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Claire.”

“That stupid fecking bitch.”

Jamie turned on his mother, eyes blazing. “Ye’ll no’ talk about her that way. It’s no’ her fault.” He turned and walked past Ellen to leave the room, saying, “He’s dead.” as he walked out of the door.

In the driveway, before putting on his helmet, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. Jack Randall answered quickly. “He’s still here,” Jamie told him.

“I know,” Randall said. “He’s at Innes’s right now. Jamie, I’m taking –.”

Jamie hung up the phone before Jack could finish his sentence. He started his bike and raced to Main Street, stopping in front of Innes’ barbershop. Through the plate glass windows, he could see Frank sitting in the barber’s chair, preparing for a shave.

Duncan Innes stood behind Frank’s head, razor in hand. Jamie walked over to him and grabbed it, placing it against Frank’s throat. “Do ye want to go to war with me, ye sick piece of shite?”

Randall was smug even with a blade to his throat. “What do you plan to do, cut my throat in broad daylight, in front of a witness?”

Enraged, Jamie threw the blade aside, and lifted Frank from the chair by his shirt. He punched him, throwing him across the room into one of the barber stations. Before Frank could get his bearings to fight back, Jamie was on him again, picking him up and throwing him through the plate glass window. He stepped through the empty pane onto the sidewalk outside, ignoring the glass crunching under his sneakers. Frank was prostrate on the ground. Jamie pulled him by the shirt, turning him over, and started punching him in the face over and over again.

Suddenly, he felt a hot searing pain in his upper thigh. He screamed, his knees buckling. When he looked down, he saw that Frank had stabbed him with a pair of barber’s scissors. Recovering his senses and ignoring the injury, he continued his blows until he was sure the man was unconscious. Only then did he let go of his shirt. Bracing himself, he pulled the scissors from his leg, tossed them on the ground, and limped away.

Ripping off several inches of the bottom of his t-shirt, he wrapped his thigh with the fabric before getting on his motorcycle and going straight to Claire’s house.

***

“What were you thinking, Jamie?” Claire scolded as she cleaned out the wound on Jamie’s leg in her kitchen.

“I told ye he wasna goin’ to bother ye anymore and I meant it.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“You really should go to the hospital for this, you know. I don’t have the supplies I need to stitch this up.”

“Just patch it up best ye can. I’m no’ going to the hospital.”

She paused, considering. The wound was not too deep to be worrisome and the bleeding had mostly stopped. “It will leave a scar if you don’t get it stitched properly.”

Jamie chuckled as she began to bandage him. “Dinna fash, Claire. It’s just one more scar, nothing to sulk over.”

She wrapped the last of the bandages around his leg and smiled at him, giving him a gentle pat. “Well, you’re all set then.” She stood and reached her hand out to help him out. “On your feet.”

He held onto her hand even after he stood, looking into her eyes. _Please_ , Claire thought fervently. _Please just kiss me now and make this all better._

As if reading her mind, he leaned in closer to her, lips inches from her. He was so close, she could taste his breath on her tongue. Then they heard the sirens, and they jumped apart. “I guess it’s time to go answer fer my crimes.”

Claire closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean for this to happen. You shouldn’t have done this for me.”

“Claire,” he said. “Don’t ye know that I would walk through fire for ye?”

Then the police were at the door. Jamie raised his hands in the air and kneeled to the ground. John Grey placed him in handcuffs, and they walked out the door.

***

Jamie sat at a table in a conference room at the Leoch Police station. His hands had been freed from the cuffs, and Chief Grey was sitting across from him. Special Agent Dunsaney paced the room, reading through the papers she held in her hand. Finally, she smiled at Jamie. “Duncan Innes says that you came in for a haircut and when Frank Randall saw you, he attacked you with a pair of scissors, at which point you threw him through a pane glass window.” She threw hers hands up in the air. “So, I guess it was self-defense?”

Jamie shrugged, holding her gaze. “If that’s what Duncan says happened, I guess that’s what happened.”

Dunsaney chuckled, pacing the floor. “That’s just wonderful,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Jamie could tell she was a woman who was accustomed to getting her way, and she was not happy with the direction this was going.

“Tell me,” she said thoughtfully. “Are the people in this backwater hellscape scared of you, or do you just have them convinced you’re a necessary evil?”’

Jamie just smiled and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. “Am I being charged?”

“No charges,” Grey said.

Dunsaney walked slowly over to the table and sat down near him. “Why does Frank Randall have a hard-on for you?”

“Ye ken why.”

The Agent nodded, looking at the paper in front of her. “You’re right. I do. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. Leoch’s ingenue that got away. You and Miss Beauchamp were high school sweethearts, if the information I have is correct.” Jamie simply nodded at her. “So, let me get this straight,” Geneva went on. “She leaves you, gets the hell out of this place and makes something of herself. Then, when she finds herself in danger, she comes running back to the one man who would do anything for her, even put a Federal agent through a plate glass window. That’s just beautiful. I wish I had someone I had that kind of pull over.”

“Are we done?”

“Yes, we’re done,” Grey said, standing and walking around the table. He opened the door to allow Jamie to leave.

He walked out of the station, the light dim in the early hours of dusk. Frank Randall was standing by a car, escorted by Deputy Chief Jack Randall. His face was a plethora of various shades of red and purple, one his eyes swollen shut. He got in the car and drove away. Jack walked up to the station steps, joining Jamie. “He won’t be coming back.” Jamie simply nodded at him. “Dougal brought your bike over. It’s out back.”

“Thanks, Jack. Truly.”

He returned to his own house, planning to clean up the nursery, but found his mother there still. She had cleaned up most of the mess, even put back up the brackets that had been pulled down. The broken changing table had been removed from the room, its former contents piled neatly in a corner. Ellen was sitting in the rocking chair, her head tilted back against the chair, eyes closed.

“Ma,” he said, shaking her arm gently.

She opened her eyes and stretched. “How’s yer leg?”

“Fine.”

“Where’s the doc?”

“I dinna ken.” He leaned against the crib and gently batted at the toys of the hanging mobile.

“Where’s that going, Jamie?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere.”

Ellen laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t believe ye for a second. I’ve seen the way ye two look at each other. I see how ye act around her. Not even ten years of separation could severe those ties.”

“You know what, Ma? I dinna care what ye think about it. What Claire and I do isna yer business!”

“Not my business,” she said, rising from the chair. “Not my business. So, what _is_ my business then? Cleaning up piss and broken changing tables?”

“I didna _ask_ ye to do this, Ma!” he shouted at her. “This house, this kid, _none_ of it is your burden. It’s mine.” Her face looked wounded, but he didn’t care anymore. Without another word, he turned around and left the house.

***

After Jamie had left her house in handcuffs, Claire had been called back to the hospital to deal with an urgent situation with one of her patients. She was bone tired when she pulled her car into the driveway, physically and emotionally.

When her headlights went across her front stoop, she saw Jamie sitting there with his head in his hands. He looked up when the light caught his eye, watching her park the car and walk toward him. She sat down next to him and put a hand on his arm. “You ok?” she asked.

“Yeah. And yer ok, too. I saw him leave town. He’s gone.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She wrapped her arms around Jamie and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” Jamie looked at her as if he was searching for something that he could ascertain from her eyes.

“What?” she asked nervously, lifting her head.

“It’s only…I got tae thinkin’ about this whole thing, and I’m just wonderin’…” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he went on. “Well, ye left Chicago because ye were afraid this guy was gonna hurt ye.’”

“That was one of the reasons.”

“I need to know, Claire. Did ye come back _here_ because ye kent I would stop him, that I’d do what the cops wouldna do?”

“God, no Jamie.” She grabbed his face and pulled it toward her, so he was forced to look in her eyes. “I didn’t know he would follow me here. Christ, I didn’t even know if you would still be here.”

She dropped her hand and they sat silently for a minute. Finally, she took a breath and said to him, “This doesn’t sound like you Jamie. It sounds like your mom.”

He cleared his throat and stood, “Well, yer safe now. Good night, Claire.” He walked away and left her sitting on the stoop, unsure what had just transpired between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to my other fics
> 
> [Blood Sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405049/chapters/58872010) \- An Outlander modern AU taking place in the early 90s
> 
> [Prodigal Son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395800/chapters/58847287) \- A canon divergent Outlander story that begins in the year 1979


	7. The Same Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My level of commitment?” Jamie asked, incredulously. “Ye canna be serious. I risked my life today for $20,000 for the club. My commitment hasna changed. What’s changed is the way I’m thinkin’ about things. And yes, the birth of my son has me seeing things differently. My mind is on big picture shit for me and the club. And dinna look at me like I’m a coward. I’m no’ afraid tae get bloody. I just dinna want all the blood that’s spilt to be the end of SAMCWRO.”

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

"We've only got until the end of the day to raise the rest of the 200k we owe for that last shipment of guns." Dougal glared at the men sitting around the table. "Rupert, how much more do we need?"

Rupert glanced at his notes again and looked up nervously, clearing his throat. "We're still short twenty grand." Everyone at the table groaned.

Dougal slammed his fist on the table. "Enough o' yer blatherin'. I want ideas."

"We've tapped just about every resource we have, Dougal," Fergus chimed in.

"There's still one person we haven't asked yet," Angus said. "The porn queen."

Jamie leaned back in his chair. "Gillian?"

Fergus nodded in agreement with Angus. "Between her web traffic, membership fees, and ad revenues, I would say she's probably pulling in 5K a week. And that doesn't include what she's making from the films."

Gillian Edgars was the wife of Otto Horrocks, a member of SAMCWRO who had been jailed in Ardsmuir Federal Prison since 1995. She owned a successful pornography studio and was also one of Ellen MacKenzie's oldest friends.

Rupert looked skeptical. "Do ye really think she would loan us the money?"

Dougal gave Jamie a questioning look. Jamie shrugged. “I can ask my mom if she’ll talk to her. If anyone can get Gillian to say yes, it’ll be my ma.”

“It’s settled then,” Dougal said. “But I want the rest o’ ye out there hustlin’ anyway. We canna afford to miss this deadline, and if Gillian falls through, we’ll need back up. Any other business?”

Jamie sat up taller in his seat and grinned. “The bairn’s comin’ o’ of the incubator today.”

Rupert stood and clapped Jamie on the back. “Ye get to hold yer son. That’s braw, Jamie.”

Dougal smiled, the changed atmosphere in the room contagious. “Well, at least we ken one good thing is gonna happen today.”

Jamie ran into his mom just outside the clubhouse. “Hey Ma.”

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey.”

“Ma, I’m sorry. I didna mean tae go off on ye like that the other night. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Ellen said, uncrossing her arms and placing a hand on Jamie’s arm. “It was a crazy day. I’m just so worried, Jamie. It feels like everything is changing and I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m worried about you. About Willie….” Her voice trailed off.

“About Claire,” Jamie said. “Ma, what happened wi’ me and Claire is ancient history. Ye have tae let it go sometime.”

Ellen squinted her eyes at him. “She hurt you. She hurt our family, tryin’ tae pull you away. I canna forget that.”

“I didna leave.”

“But _she_ did. And she broke yer heart.”

Jamie shrugged. “I guess.”

Ellen leaned in closer to her son. “You guess? She crushed ye Jamie. Mebbe ye dinna remember, but I do.”

Jamie stepped back and threw his hands in the air. “Canna ye ever let shit go, Ma? I was nineteen years old! Christ, it was first love bullshit. I got over it. Why canna you?”

Ellen looked like she wanted to lean in and touch him again, but she wisely gave him his space. “When someone hurts yer bairn, ye never get over it. Ye’ll ken that soon enough.”

Jamie sighed and ran his fingers through his curls. “I dinna want tae argue anymore, Ma. Besides, I need tae ask ye a favor.” Ellen made no reaction except to raise one eyebrow at him. “It’s no’ just for me. It’s fer the club. We need ye to get Gillian to loan us 20K so we can pay off the gun debt.”

“Twenty thousand dollars?” Ellen whisper-shouted. “Are ye out o’ yer goddamn mind?”

“What we’re out of is options. Ye have tae try, Ma. If we lose this gun pipeline, we’re screwed.”

Ellen rolled her eyes, but acquiesced. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask her. But I canna guarantee anything. I’ll see ye later?”

“Ye’ll be there when they take Willie out of the toaster today, won’t ye?”

“I wouldna miss it for the world.”

***

Later that afternoon, Jamie was laying in his bed in the clubhouse. He had tried to take a nap, but he was too excited to sleep, waiting for the call from Claire that they were taking Willie out of the incubator.

The idea of seeing Claire again wasn't helping his nerves either. He knew he had left things strained between them the other night. He had let Dunsaney get in his head, doubting Claire’s intentions. Claire didn't even have intentions, as far as he could tell, and that was the way it should be. She had left him to get away from this life, and he had no intention of dragging her back into it.

 _At least Frank Randall isn't going to be a problem, anymore_ , he thought. He'd protected Claire, and whether or not she'd come back to Leoch knowing he would, was no concern of his. Even if that were the only reason she'd come here, could he blame her? He would protect her always, and she knew it. He couldn't fault her for asking of him what he'd have given anyway.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his face and sat up. He rooted around the floor until he found his father's journal and opened it to the last page he had marked.

_Einstein said that any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex and more violent. But it takes a touch of genius and a lot of courage to move something in the opposite direction. I'm realizing that my touch of genius and my courage are coming too little too late. And I fear that for SAMCWRO there may be no opposite direction._

Before he could read anymore, there was a sharp knock at his door. "Aye?"

"Jamie, we need ye out here right away," Fergus's voice came through the door.

"Aye, I'm coming," he said, slipping the pages underneath his pillow.

Out in the main room, Fergus, Ian, and Dougal were gathered around the bar, talking intently. "What's going on?" Jamie asked as he approached them.

"Fergus was riding out on 84," Dougal began, "when he saw a tractor trailer wreck."

"The driver had gone right through the windshield," Fergus chimed in. "I climbed up to help him, get him out of there. Anyway, the ambulance came, and I ran back to check the truck for his wallet, and I found this." He held up a small baggie.

Jamie ripped it out of his hand and examined it. "Meth?"

"Aye," Dougal said. "We didna ken whose it was, so I sent Ian and Fergus over tae the hospital tae see the truck driver."

"And?" Jamie asked impatiently.

"The meth came from Bonnet," Ian replied. " Sold it to him in Pope. The trucker was deep in debt wi' him, so Bonnet sent his men tae collect." Pope was the next town over from Leoch, and it was unsettling to know that Bonnet could be creeping in closer to their town. SAMCWRO had run other meth dealers out of town already, determined to keep Leoch free of the nasty business.

"They're taking the diesel from the tanker as payment on the debt," Fergus went on. "It's in an impound lot now. Bonnet's men will be going tae collect it soon."

Jamie looked at Ian, a mischievous grin growing on both of their faces. "Let's see if we can meet Bonnet's men then," Jamie said.

***

Jamie and Ian arrived at the impound lot just in time to see one of Bonnet's men starting the engine on the large tanker and pulling it out of the lot. Jamie gave Ian a nod, and they both started their bikes in pursuit of the truck.

They caught up with the truck on the highway. Both Jamie and Ian swerved their bikes to either side of the tanker and pulled their guns. When the driver spotted Jamie in his peripheral vision, he pulled his own gun and started shooting at Jamie.

Jamie swerved to avoid the bullets, falling back. He looked to his right and saw Ian aiming at the truck’s tires. Jamie raised his own pistol and shot as he fell back further. The truck swerved. Ian rode up next to Jamie and they both held back as the truck righted itself.

As soon as the truck began to still, both men rode up alongside the cab and pulled their guns. "Put the gun down and get out of the truck." Jamie demanded.

The man in the truck dropped his gun on the seat next to him and put one hand in the air. With the other, he reached for the door handle. "That's right," Ian said. "Nice and slow. Leave the keys."

Slowly the driver opened the door and lowered himself out of the truck. As soon as he was close enough, Ian grabbed the man and pulled him out. Jamie took his cue to jump in the cab. "Call someone to take care of my bike," he told Ian as he put the truck in gear and drove away.

***

An hour later, Jamie was waiting on the side of the road near a truck rest stop, leaning on his motorcycle, when John Grey pulled up in his police cruiser. Stepping out of the car with a frustrated look on his face, John approached Jamie. “What in God’s name have you dragged me all the way out here for?”

Jamie rubbed the two-day scruff on his chin casually. “Weel, I kent ye ought to know that Bonnet’s been selling meth in Pope.”

John looked at him, perplexed. “Why would I care what’s going on in Pope?”

Jamie just shrugged. “Just doing my civic duty, I suppose.”

“Well congratulations,” John retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll get you a junior sheriff’s badge for your trouble.”

Jamie stood straight and gestured to the tanker sitting in the parking lot behind them. “Now, speaking to ye as the owner of Grey Trucking, I’ve a proposal for ye.”

“Why am I looking at one of my competitor’s trucks?” John asked.

“What ye are lookin’ at is 8500 gallons of diesel. All yers for $20,000.”

“Could you at least pretend once in a while that you respect that I’m a police officer?”

“Look, ye can be proud about it, or ye can be smart about it. Yes, the diesel is stolen, but this is a win-win situation for everyone. I ken gas prices have been cuttin’ into yer bottom line. Ye can fill yer tanks at night and then dump the truck. Insurance will compensate the owner for the lost diesel, and ye’ll get tae fill your trucks at half price for the next six weeks.” Jamie cross his arms on his chest and gave John a look, daring him to poke holes in his argument.

“20K, you said?”

“Aye. And I need it today. Cash.”

“Jesus, Jamie.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at him. “I could take it to another one of yer competitor’s”

John put his hands up in defeat. “Alright. You win. I’ll bring it by the Clubhouse later.”

John reached out his hand and Jamie took it, shaking on the deal. The last of the gun debt settled, he went back to the Club to tell everyone the good news.

***

Jamie had been on his way back to the clubhouse, when Claire called. “We’re ready for you,” she said happily. “It’s time for you to hold your son!"

“Really? Alright, I’ll be there soon. Thank ye Claire.”

He had made a quick call to Dougal, filling him on the deal with Grey and the $20,000. Once Grey had dropped off the cash, Dougal and a few of the other men would meet with Macquarrie, the representative from their gun supplier.

Now Jamie was sitting in a rocking chair in the nursery at the hospital, nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. Claire had gone to fetch Willie while Ellen waited with him. “Are ye nervous, Da?” Ellen asked.

“More excited than nervous, I think. I canna believe the little lad is doing sae well, when I never,” his throat constricted a little. “When I never thought he would make it.”

Just then, Claire entered the room with a small bundle in her arms. Carefully she passed William over to Jamie and smiled at him when their arms touched. Jamie fought back the tears that wanted to fall as he rocked and felt the warm body heat of his son for the first time.

Ellen and Claire exchanged a look, tacitly agreeing to give Jamie some privacy. When they left the room, Jamie finally let loose, allowing the tears to fall, easing the burning at the back of his eyes. “ _A chuisle, mo chridhe._ I canna tell ye what it means tae hold ye in my arms.” He removed Willie's small knit hat and kissed his head, breathing in that intoxicating smell only newborns had. “I promise ye, _mo mhac_ , I’m goin’ tae get us out of all this shite. Ye’ll no’ grow up thinkin’ running guns is an honorable way to make a living. I’m going tae make sure of that."

***

Much later, on his way back from the hospital, Jamie’s cell phone rang. He pulled over and answered it. “Jamie,” Ian’s panicked voice said. “We need ye to go to Claire’s house and see if she has any medical supplies.”

“What? Wait, what the hell happened?”

“When we were at the bar meetin’ with Macquarrie, we were ambushed by Grant’s men.”

“Fuck. That’s just what we need. Wait, who’s hurt?”

“Just Macquarrie and a few of Grant’s men. They tried tae get Dougal, but Angus shot the guy before he could. It was close, though. We could have all of us been killed.”

“Goddammit. So now that we ken that Grant and Bonnet are working together, what now?”

“Just go to Claire’s and get the medical supplies. I’ll fill ye in when ye get here.”

Jamie rode to Claire’s house quickly and ran up her front steps, ringing the doorbell. She answered the door in a t-shirt and sweats, with her hair bundled on top of her head like a giant puffball. Jamie couldn’t help but smile at her effortless beauty, despite the circumstances.

“Jamie. Come in,” Claire stepped aside for him. “What’s going on?”

“Do ye have any medical supplies here, Claire?” Jamie asked urgently.

“Yes, what do you need?”

“Anything ye can spare.” Claire gave him a strange look as she turned to go into the other room. Returning with a small duffel bag, she handed it to Jamie. “This is all I have here. I’m not sure what’s going on right now, Jamie, but I hope everything is ok.”

Jamie took the bag from her and sighed. He shook his head, looking in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything. For this. For runnin’ tae ye when I need help and draggin’ ye intae things ye dinna want to be involved in.”

“Jamie, I – “

“Ye ken, when I heard ye’d moved back here, my heart leapt in my throat. I couldna wait tae see ye again.” She smiled at him and moved closer. “But then,” he said, taking her hands in his. “Then I started running all the possible scenarios of this, of us working.”

“What did it look like,” Claire asked. It was clear on her face what she wanted him to say.

“It looked exactly like this, Claire.” He dropped her hands. “Me doin’ bad shit and ye wonderin’ what the hell I’m doin’. And me always sayin’ I’m sorry.”

“I suppose this conversation does feel vaguely familiar.”

“Ye’ve changed, Claire. And that’s a good thing. Yer no’ the same girl that ye were when ye were nineteen. And that’s a good thing. But me? I’m the same guy, riding’ with the same gang, wearin’ the same cut. I’m no’ going tae drag ye back to that.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Good night, Claire.”

He turned to leave, and as he opened the front door, Claire spoke up. “You’re not the same you know. I saw you today with your son, and do you know what I saw? I saw a man who loved his son, who wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable or letting someone in. You might wear the same cut, but you’re not the same guy. Maybe someday you’ll realize that.”

He left without another word.

***

Macquarrie had been shot in the ass, a story that would have been funny if the man hadn’t been bleeding to death in the clubhouse when Jamie arrived. He handed Half-Sack the medical supplies and went off in search of Dougal and Ian. He ran into Angus first, instead.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Angus’s normal nervous energy was turned up; the man was practically a live wire. “I told ye, Jamie. I told ye all when the shit with the warehouse went down that Grant was comin' few us. I said that we needed to stop this shit then. But did ye listen tae me? No, we went along with yer plans tae try tae keep the peace and look where that’s got us.”

“Angus,” Jamie said calmly. “Everything is fine.”

“Fine?” Angus exploded. “They tried to assassinate Dougal, and ye stand there and say everything is fine? It’s no’ fine, Jamie. It’s time fer war. We’re callin’ in all the clubs.”

Dougal and Ian had joined them, drawn by the sounds of Angus’s ranting. “He’s right,” Ian said. “We need guns and bodies. It’s time.”

Angus looked at Jamie, moving closer to him. “Are ye with us, _Vice President_?”

Jamie looked around at the three men standing with him, hoping to find reason in one of their eyes. “We are not ready for war. We don’t have any cash and we would need a surplus of weapons. Plus, the ATF is still on our asses.”

Dougal gave him a sickening smile. “We can always find weapons and cash. What I need tae ken is, are ye with us?

Jamie glanced at Ian and Angus. “Can ye give us a minute please?” They glanced at Dougal who nodded at them. As soon as they were out of the room, Jamie turned to Dougal. “Let’s just call this what it is. I ken ye think I’m distracted. Why dinna ye voice yer concerns now and get this over with.”

“I dinna care if yer distracted,” Dougal said. “What I’m worried about is yer level of commitment to this club.”

“My level of commitment?” Jamie asked, incredulously. “Ye canna be serious. I risked my life today for $20,000 _for the club_. My commitment hasna changed. What’s changed is the way I’m thinkin’ about things. And yes, the birth of my son has me seeing things differently. My mind is on big picture shit for me and the club. And dinna look at me like I’m a coward. I’m no’ afraid tae get bloody. I just dinna want all the blood that’s spilt to be the end of SAMCWRO.”

“Son,” Dougal said. “They tried tae kill me today. Right now, this is only about blood. You get on board, and I’ll worry about the big picture shit when this is over.”

Just then, Jamie’s phone rang. Glaring at Dougal, he glanced at the screen and saw Claire’s name pop up. Holding a finger up to Dougal, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Jamie,” Claire said, her voice panicked. “I need you.”


	8. Never My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you, Claire. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me. I just…I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting. I know things went bad in Chicago, and I can even admit that some of it was my fault. Sometimes love inspires a man’s baser instincts. I did things I’m not proud of. But the restraining order, Claire? Was that necessary? You made me feel like some sort of psycho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely NSFW

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

After Jamie left, Claire poured herself a generous glass of wine and brought a book into her bedroom. She turned to plug her phone in the charger when suddenly she felt arms reaching around her, a hand covering her mouth. She tried to bite the hand, tried to fling her body around to loosen herself from the attacker’s grasp, but he was too strong.

“Hello, Claire,” Frank said. “This will be a lot easier if you just relax. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk.” She was writhing in his arms, doing anything she could to get away from him. “Just sit still, dammit!” He said, squeezing her hard enough that she worried her ribs would crack. “I just need five goddamn minutes Claire.” Removing his hand from her mouth, he grabbed one of her arms and bent it behind her, threatening to break it.

“Stop!” she screamed, sobbing.

“If you just relax and talk to me, I’ll stop. Can you do that, Claire?” Gritting her teeth against the pain, she nodded slowly. “Good girl,” he said, letting her sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled her desk chair up across from her, taking her hands in his. “Thank you, Claire. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me. I just…I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting. I know things went bad in Chicago, and I can even admit that some of it was my fault. Sometimes love inspires a man’s baser instincts. I did things I’m not proud of. But the restraining order, Claire? Was that necessary? You made me feel like some sort of psycho.”

She listened to him, focusing on steadying her breathing. She needed to keep calm, to keep him calm until she could figure out how to get away from him. If she could get him to think she was ready to reconcile with him, she could have a chance of him letting his guard down.

“I saw Fraser leaving your house earlier,” Frank went on. “You know that can’t happen, right? Jamie Fraser is your past. I am your future.”

Claire nodded, giving him a weak smile, as he went on. “All that matters now is you and me. We have a foundation we can build on. Let’s get everything out in the open so we can move past all that stupid stuff in Chicago and get on with our lives.”

Claire nodded again. “Ok. That sounds like a good idea.” _Anything to stall him; anything to keep him calm._

Frank moved from the chair to the bed. “You go first, Claire.”

She shook her head, nervously. “I don’t know what you want me to talk about.”

“No, darling. This is your time to talk about whatever you want to talk about. Let’s clear the air. Tell me what wasn’t working for you in our relationship. Be brutally honest.”

“Ok,” Claire said, taking a deep breath. “Well, I suppose my biggest concern that I had in Chicago is that you were a bit…possessive.”

“Yes,” Frank said, reaching out to touch her hair. She flinched and he put his hand back down.

“It frightened me.”

“I’m sorry Claire. I’m an intense guy.”

“But you scared me, Frank, and that’s why I filed the restraining order.”

“You know now that you have nothing to be afraid of, Claire, right? You just weren’t used to being loved so deeply.” He leaned in to kiss her and she pulled away.

Frank shot to his feet, gripping Claire’s arm and bringing her up with him. “Goddammit Claire, what else can I do to show you how much I love you.”

“I’m just not ready yet, Frank. I need time.”

“Time?” He was gripping her arm hard enough to leave bruises. “And how much time did you need before you fucked Fraser?”

She tried to rip her arm away, but his grip was like a vice. “Whatever happens between Jamie and me is none of your business, Frank.”

“So, you have been fucking him?” He roared and slapped her across the face.

Although the blow stung, he had released her arm with his other hand, and Claire tried to take the opportunity to run from him. He reached out, gripping her by the hair and threw her into the wall. Everything went black.

When she woke, she was lying on her bed. Panicked, she looked down but saw that she was still fully clothed. Frank was next to her, his shirt off. He must have turned on her iPod because the sounds of that old song _Never My Love_ floated through the room. He had removed his gun holster and placed it on the nightstand beside him. 

Suddenly he was on her, pinning her arms down above her head. “I’ll make you mine again, Claire, one way or another.”

“No, no, no, no! Please, Frank. Not like this. What about our fresh start?” He released her hands cautiously. She put her hands up to his face. “Let’s make love gently, like we used to. Let’s take our time.” Whatever happened, she was going to retain some semblance of control over the situation. She would keep as much of her dignity in tact as she could.

He nodded in agreement as she gently nudged him off of her. When he was lying on his back, she leaned over him and kissed him.

“I love you, Claire. I promise I’ll make this all right and it will be just you and me, together forever.”

Leaning over his, she kissed his lips gently and then began a slow trail down his bare chest, teasing him as she went. When he tried to kiss her back, to touch her, she pushed him down gently. “Shhhhh….” He leaned back and closed his eyes, and she straddled him, kneeling on the bed.

“Claire,” he said.

Quickly, she reached for his gun that he had carelessly left on the nightstand, loosening it from the holster. Frank grabbed at her and they struggled, but she did not loosen her grip. The gun was between them when it suddenly went off. Claire scrambled back and when she looked up, she saw Frank standing next to the bed with an astonished look on his face. He held his hand over his stomach, blood pooling around his hand.

“You stupid bitch,” he said, slowly falling to the floor. “Don’t just stand there. Call an ambulance before I bleed to death.”

Instead, she left the room and called Jamie.

***

When Jamie arrived, she was pacing in her living room, still holding the gun in her hand. He came into the house without knocking, and Claire threw herself in his arms. “Jesus, Claire, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Frank,” she said. “He broke in. I couldn’t stop him.”

“He’s here? Where is he?” She nodded toward the bedroom and Jamie took the gun from her hands.

He walked into the bedroom and saw Frank Randall slumped over on the floor in a blood-soaked shirt. Frank took one look at Jamie and screamed at Claire, “You useless cunt! You called him?”

Claire pulled Jamie back into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” she said frantically. “I didn’t know what to do, Jamie, so I shot him. What do we do? What do we do?”

Jamie grabbed her gently by the arms, trying to steady her. “Listen, if we call this in, you’re not going to get charged, ok? They’ll fix him up and he’ll get a couple years in prison for assault.”

“And then what?”

“Then he’ll be free to do this again.”

Claire shook her head, panicked. “No, Jamie. No. I can’t do this again. I can’t keep living like this, worrying that he’s lurking around every corner.”

Frank’s voice reached them in the hallway. “You stupid pathetic whore!” Having heard enough, Jamie turned into the room and reached Frank in two strides. Frank went on. “Once a biker slut, always a – “

He was interrupted by the bullet Jamie put in his head. Claire screamed. Jamie set the gun down on the nightstand and sat down shakily on the bed. He had never killed a man before.

Claire moved to the bed to sit next to him, sobs shaking her entire body. Jamie turned to her and took her in his arms. “It’s ok,” he whispered. “It’s ok.” He stroked her head and rocked her back and forth. When the sobs began to subside, she looked up at him and he leaned forward, placing his forehead on hers. “It’s ok,” he said again.

And then their mouths crashed together, tongues wrestling, reaching deep into the back of each other’s throats. They grasped at each other, hands seeking each other, touching everywhere. Claire pushed Jamie’s vest off of him and reached for his belt as he groaned into her mouth.

He pulled her to her feet and they frantically undressed each other, their mouths breaking apart only to pull their shirts over their heads. Jamie reached behind her, grabbing handfuls of her firm, round ass in his rough hands. He lifted her then, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he lowered her back on the bed.

He laid her down and kneeled over her, hesitating. He tried to slow himself down by steadying his breath and lowering his head to her breasts. Slowly, his tongue circled her nipple, and her body jolted at the sensation. Crying out as he sucked and teased, she pulled his head up with both hands. Looking him in the eyes, she whispered hoarsely, “Do it now, and don’t be gentle.”

He needed no other encouragement. She spread her legs and he slammed into her. She cried out and he pulled back, thrusting in again just as suddenly. “God, Jamie, keep going,” she begged, rocking her hips. He pulled back again, thrusting hard again, before settling into a hard, grinding rhythm, slamming into her over and over. She moaned and cried out, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Deeper. Please deeper. Jamie, I need to feel all of you inside of me.” He plunged as deep as he could, thrusting at a punishing pace.

He was not going to last long like this, and he knew she would not let him slow down.

Reaching down, he pressed his fingers to her clit as he continued to pound into her. Her noises became guttural, animal-like. “Aye, Claire,” he panted, moving his fingers relentlessly on her bundle of nerves. “Make those sounds fer me like ye used tae. I want tae hear you scream my name again, Claire.” He could feel her walls tightening around him, saw her face screwed up in concentration. He doubled his efforts, thrusting as hard as he could. “I see ye Claire. I see ye want to do it. Let go, Claire. Let go.”

She did let go then, falling apart around him. He followed, spilling into her as if he was giving her everything he had. He held her there as she ran her hands up and down his back, her face showing her astonished satisfaction.

Eventually, Jamie rolled off of her, and she immediately curled into his side. He played with her hair, kissing the top of her head, as she ran her fingers along the muscles on his chest. _Never My Love_ was still playing on a loop, the sound filling the room as they lay quietly beside each other.

“Do you remember,” she said finally. “What it was like between us? That feeling when we’re together? You asked me once what it was, and I said I didn’t know.” She intertwined her fingers with his, examining the shapes their hands made together.

“I still don’t know,” he said, kissing her knuckles gently.

“Me neither.”

“But it’s still there.” He leaned down to kiss her as she nodded her head. Closing his eyes, he let all the feelings he had been holding back flood through him and into her as their mouths met again. All that mattered in that moment was the two of them, melting together again, becoming one.

He would deal with everything else another day.


	9. Blood Was Every Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never made a conscious decision to have the club become one thing or another. It just happened before my eyes. Each savage event was a catalyst for the next. By the time the violence reached epic proportion, I couldn't see it. Blood was every color.

[ ](https://ibb.co/DbYnCL7)

Jamie, freshly showered and back from the unpleasant chore of dumping Frank Randall's body in the desert, crawled onto Claire’s bed. She looked beautiful, peaceful, with her curls spread across the pillow, surrounding her head like a halo. He leaned down and kissed her gently, pushing a few stray curls off her forehead.

She roused with a full body stretch, a "mmmmmm" sound emerging from her plump lips.

"Good morning, _mo nieghan donn_. Do you feel ok?" he asked gently.

She reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek. "I don't know yet." She reached her hand up to touch his wet hair, realizing he had been up for a while. Sitting up, she looks around the room and finds they are alone, and the floor and walls have been scrubbed clan. "What did you do with him?" she asks quietly.

Jamie shook his head and leaned over to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "It is done."

"Jamie," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "What did we do?"

Jamie shook his head and placed a hand on the back of her neck, kneading her through her curls. "Dinna fash. We did what needed tae be done."

"But if there were another way…"

"When Frank showed up in Leoch, he kent it was going tae end in one of two ways. Either him dead or ye dead." He kissed her on the nose gently. "It ended the right way."

Claire sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling the blanket up to cover herself. "Perhaps I knew that as well, when I came back. And this is the one place I felt safe," she said, reaching out and stroking Jamie's muscular bicep, tracing her finger along the prominent vein that throbbed when he exerted himself.

"It was survival, Claire. Ye did what ye had tae do and so did I."

"Is that how this works then? You just make up your own moral code for everything?"

Jamie sighed rubbing his hand over his face before placing it on Claire’s thigh, his fingers drumming on her skin gently. "I've never killed a man before," he said quietly. "I dinna ken what the code is."

She leaned forward, placing her hand over his, quieting his nervous fingers. "I'm sorry."

Jamie shook his head and turned his body towards her again, wrapping her in his arms. "Since the day Willie was born, I’ve been walking around with this...this sick feeling in my wame." He paused, trying to conjure the words to explain how he felt. "Ye ken how everybody has a…. secret place inside them? That part of ye that makes ye who ye are no one else? The moment Willie was born, I felt like that part of me was suddenly exposed, out there for everyone tae see. It scared the shite out o' me. I felt alone, naked. Like I've been trying tae hide under a blade o' grass."

"Jamie," Claire whispered, her head buried in his chest.

"But today, Claire," he said, placing a kiss in her curls. "Today I woke up with ye in my arms, and that feeling was gone. Like ye suddenly put a roof over my head again." He paused, taking a moment to rub her back. "I think that might scare me even more."

"You're still in shock, Jamie," she said, pulling away from his embrace and looking into his dark blue eyes.

He laughed gently, just a small push of air emitted from his nose. "I didna think anything could shock me anymore."

Claire reached out and took his hands in hers. "What can I do? How can I help you.”?

"Just dinna go anywhere."

"Jamie, I will never leave you again."

He kissed her, soft and reassuring. "I dinna want tae leave ye right now, but I have tae."

"Where are you going?" She held him in her arms, running her fingers through his curls.

"I've got some things I've got tae do. For the club. Ye'll stay here? Take a personal day? Ye need tae rest."

"I don't think I can just sit here, Jamie." He gave her a stern look. "It'll be alright. It should be a light day."

He sighed, knowing there was no way he would win this argument. Claire had always been headstrong and stubborn. "Alright, but please be careful, aye?"

"I promise," she said, kissing him gently.

He left the house and walked over to his motorcycle sitting in the driveway. As he was about to get on it, he heard the sound of a car and motorcycle careening down the street. He looked up and saw his mother's car with Angus on his bike behind her. "Christ," he muttered under his breath.

Ellen stormed out of her car, slamming the door. "Where the hell have ye been? Ye didn't answer yer phone; Claire didn't answer hers. The whole club is on lock down, Jamie. Dougal's called all the charter presidents in for a sit down. Grant tried to kill Bonnet last night, too. John Grey took him in for questioning." She pulled him into a fierce hug, her fear for his safety apparent in her grip on him, her long fingernails digging into the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I got caught up," he offered. He knew it would be insufficient, but he didn't have the energy for further explanations. He felt bone tired and all he wanted to do was go back to the clubhouse and sleep.

Ellen pulled away from him and examined him closely. "Have ye been here this whole time? Christ, Dougal gets shot at and ye decide it’s a good time tae stick yer cock in that hoor?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. He did not want to have this argument again. "It's no' like that, Ma."

"If ye want tae resurrect old drama with that bitch, ye do it on yer own time." She brushed past him, heading for the front door.

"She's no' in there," he lied. "Dinna go looking for her."

She ignored him and moved her hand to knock on the door.

"Ma! Stop! Leave her alone."

Ellen turned and walked back to the driveway. "I'm no' going in there tae harass her. We need a doctor at the clubhouse. Macquarrie's no' doing well." She quickly filled him in on the details.

Jamie hesitated. It had been a long night for Claire, and she needed to rest. Still, she was planning to go into work anyway. And after he had been MIA all night, it would be a terrible move to refuse help when the club needed it. Sighing, he replied, "Fine, but I'll go get her. Ye two get o' of here."

Ellen turned to get back into her car, but Angus stared at Jamie. "Ye got something tae say?" Jamie asked.

Angus shook his head, his arms crossed on his chest. "Ye better make sure yer focused on yer priorities," he said, gesturing toward Claire’s house.

"I am," Jamie replied through gritted teeth. "Now go."

Angus stared at him a moment longer before turning to get on his motorcycle. He allowed Ellen to back out of the driveway before following her down the street. Jamie took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

He went back into the house and heard the sound of Claire in the shower. He sat on her bed to wait for her, overwhelmed with guilt that he is dragging her right into the shite he told himself he never would. He drummed his fingers nervously on his leg. On the one hand, he didn’t want her involved in _anything_ with the club; on the other hand, he knew that was impossible. He'd meant to keep them apart until he could get the club out of gun running, but now that they had bridged the gap he had carefully dug between them, it was inevitable that her life would be intertwined with the club. He'd seen what an Old Lady being at odds with the club was doing to Ian and Jenny, and he couldn't allow that to happen with him and Claire.

Claire walked into the bedroom and gasped, dropping her towel. Jamie chuckled. "Bonnie," he said hoarsely, taking her in.

"Jesus, Jamie. You scared the shit out of me." She moved closer to him, pushing his legs apart and standing between them.

Jamie reached around and grabbed her ass, pinching and squeezing. She giggled and bent down to kiss him slowly, her tongue dancing across his. "I need you," she whispered.

"I'm afraid," he said, slapping her ass with just the right amount of force to tantalize her, "that we dinna have time for that. I need ye tae take that personal day after all."

"What for?" she asked, picking up her towel and going through her dresser, looking for clothes.

Jamie sighed. "A friend of the club's been shot. He's at the clubhouse. Fergus and Angus tried tae patch him up, but they couldna get the second slug out and infection is setting in. We really dinna need another dead body on our hands right now."

Claire nodded, putting on a pair of jeans. "Alright. I'll swing by the hospital and meet you there."

Jamie nodded and stood up. "Be careful, Claire. There's trouble brewing wi' the club. I dinna think anybody will connect ye with us just now but watch yer back anyway. Ye still have yer gun?"

"Yes," she replied, pulling a t-shirt over her head.

Jamie moved toward her and pulled her in for another kiss. "Ye look beautiful."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a light slap on the chest. "I'm wearing holey jeans and an old t-shirt."

"Aye," he replied, giving her ass one final squeeze before leaving her to go to the clubhouse.

***

When Jamie pulled into the parking lot at the garage, he saw Ian standing outside. "Hey man," he greeted him.

"Nice of ye tae show up," Ian teased, raising an eyebrow at Jamie.

"Dinna ask," Jamie replied.

Just then, Jenny pulled into the parking lot in Ian's truck. Jamie felt Ian tense next to him but Jenny was parked and out of the truck before Jamie could even ask Ian what was going on.

"I've been calling ye," she said yelled, walking towards them.

"Shite," Ian mumbled under his breath.

"What the hell is going on Ian?" she screeched. Jamie stepped back, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

"Something came up," Ian answered, not meeting her eyes. "Dougal needed me."

"The factory called," she spat out. "Yer boss says that if ye dinna show up tae pick up the second shift, yer arse is canned."

"I'll deal wi' it," Ian said flatly.

"Deal wi' it how? If yer no' there, ye'll no' have a job anymore."

"I got somethin' going on here, Jenny."

"Yer a lyin' piece of shit, Ian Murray." She placed her palm on his chest and pushed him; he swayed but didn't move otherwise. "Ye told me ye were done wi' the club. Ye promised. But ye were just blowin' smoke up my arse, weren't ye?"

"I never lied tae ye," he responded through gritted teeth. "I told ye I would find a way to earn straight."

"Yer going tae get fired, Ian. Is the club more important than providin' fer me and the kids?"

"No," he replied furiously, his fists clenched at his sides. "But it's more important than that fecking factory. Now, I told ye I would figure it out, and I will."

Jenny grew quiet, though her fury was still boiling underneath her skin. "I'm no' going tae live like this anymore. I'm done with this shite." She turned and ran back to the truck, peeling out of the parking lot.

Jamie approached Ian and put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, we're fine here, man. Ye should go after her."

Ian shrugged Jamie’s hand away. "I canna keep doing this. Half of our fights are about money, and I canna get ahead wi'out the club. I need back in. All the way. Guns, protection runs, everything."

Jamie sighed. "That's fine but ye still have tae talk tae Jenny."

Ian narrowed his eyes at Jamie. "I'm done talking. I want back in and I'll talk to Dougal about it as soon as he gets back."

Ian turned to walk back into the clubhouse just as Claire pulled into the parking lot. "Hey," she said to Jamie as she got out of the car.

"Hey." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her quickly. "I havena been inside yet, but we better hurry. I'm sure my Ma has smoke coming out of her ears by now. Did ye bring supplies?" She patted the bag thrown over her shoulder as he accompanied her inside.

"Finally!" Ellen said as she saw Claire and Jamie. "Come on, doc. He's in here." She gestured toward the game room and Claire followed her in.

Macquarrie was lying face down on one of the pool tables, thankfully unconscious. Fergus stood next to him, smiling at Claire and Ellen nervously. "Oh my God," was all Claire could say.

Ellen nodded. "He took two slugs in the arse. We got one out, but the other one hit an artery."

"And what's he doing?" Claire asked, gesturing to Fergus.

"The little Dutch boy has his finger in the hole keeping the blood dyke from bursting," Ellen responded with a smirk. Fergus smiled weakly.

Claire began quickly unpacking her bag. She pulled out a large bottle of pills and shook it at Ellen. "Here. Antibiotics. This stuff will kill anything. Give him two now and then one every four hours."

Ellen took the bottle from her, shaking out two pills. "Hey," she said to Macquarrie. "Ye gotta wake up and take these." The man lifted his head and took the pills from Ellen. She handed him a glass of water. "The doc's here. She's gonna get ye fixed up."

Claire stood behind him preparing a syringe. "How's it look?" he asked.

"Like you got shot in the ass," Claire answered, concentrating. "Try to relax." She plunged the syringe into the unmarked side of his buttocks.

Quickly, she threw the box of gloves at Ellen. "Put some of those on."

"Me?" Ellen asked incredulously.

"I don't see anybody else in here, do you?"

Reluctantly, Ellen pulled the gloves out of the box and put them on. Claire threw her a roll of gauze. "Where should I put this?" Claire raised an eyebrow at Ellen, a biting comeback on the tip of her tongue. "Careful," Ellen teased.

"When I say so, Fergus here is going to take his hand out of Mr. Macquarrie's ass. As soon as he does that, you stuff the gauze in the hole. I'll go in and close it off with this clamp," she said, holding the instrument up to Ellen.

"Ye sure ye ken what yer doing, doc?"

"I guess we'll find out. Ready? One, two, three."

Fergus removed his hand and blood began spurting out like a drinking fountain. Ellen swiftly stuffed the gauze in the wound as Claire worked her way in with the clamp. Concentrating she held her breath until she felt the clamp find its place. She stood back and let it out.

Fergus looked at her with wide eyes. "Holy shit, doc. That was amazing." She smiled at him. "Can I go wash my hands now?"

Claire laughed. "Yes. You did a great job Fergus. You helped save his life. Now go wash your hands."

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "Really? Thanks, doc."

She gave him a warm smile. "Really. Now go on and wash up."

Giving her an eager smile, he stumbled out of the room.

"That was very sweet," Ellen said. Claire gave her a wary look. "No, I mean it. The kid doesna get much positive feedback."

Claire smiled apologetically. "I'm a little out of my element here, Ellen. I'm not sure how all this works," she said gesturing broadly around the clubhouse.

"Fer now, ye keep him alive. After that, I have no idea how this," she gestured at the space between her and Claire, "works."

Claire nodded and returned to work on her patient.

***

Jamie was in his room, reading through his dad's journal.

_I never made a conscious decision to have the club become one thing or another. It just happened before my eyes. Each savage event was a catalyst for the next. By the time the violence reached epic proportion, I couldn't see it. Blood was every color._

Jamie sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face. Everything was moving way too quickly, and he felt helpless to stop it.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. "Yeah?" he called.

Fergus's voice came from the other side of the door. "Claire’s looking for you."

"Aye, I'll be right there."

He sighed and stood up. As he entered the main room, he saw Angus, Ian, and Rupert moving Macquarrie to one of the rooms and stepped out of their way. The clubhouse had filled with all of the representatives from the other clubs while Claire had been working on Macquarrie. He saw her looking around the room at the crowd and smiled. "How'd it go?" he asked, taking her hand.

"I got the bullet out and stopped the bleeding. If the penicillin kills the infection, he'll make it."

"Thank ye, Claire," he said, bending down to give her a chaste kiss. "How was she?" he asked, nodding toward his mother, who was glaring at them.

Claire raised her eyebrows at him. "Can't stop that bleeding." Jamie smiled. "She wants me dead. You know that, right?"

He bent down to kiss her again, less chastely than the one before. When he pulled away, he whispered into her mouth, "I'll handle my mother."

***

Dougal returned from the Leoch Police Station later and called all the men into the table room, including the club representatives that had come from all over the west coast. When everyone was gathered, he began. "What happened last night canna happen again. I'm no' just talking about the attempt on my life either. I'm talking about bodies dropping in Leoch because of us."

"We had nothing tae do wi' the hit on Bonnet," Angus chimed in.

"Grant went after me and Bonnet," Dougal went on. Two different targets in the same war. If we fire back now, we canna stop the blowback from hitting home." All the men nodded in agreement. Dougal leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "I sat down with Grant."

The nods quickly turned to grumbles of surprise and disagreement. "Just the two of ye?" Rupert asked.

"Where?" Jamie chimed in.

Dougal raised his hand in a calming gesture, attempting to quiet the volley of questions being lobbed at him. "It was at the police station. Grey had brought him in fer questioning too. We sat down and made a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Angus asked.

"We sell guns tae Grant and they settle _all_ their beefs wi' us. Territory hassles, business disputes, it all lands in our favor."

Murtagh slammed his hand down on the table. "Are ye tellin' me ye made this deal wi'out a vote?"

"Haud yer weesht," Dougal growled back. "I set the deal up. We vote on it now. And if it passes, ye all can go home and work things out wi' Grant's men in yer own territories. Take the win."

"What about Sandringham?" Fergus asked. "We've had a deal with him for years not to sell guns to Grant."

"Fergus," Jamie began, eager to make this deal that could avoid a war. "Sandrigham doesna have any loyalty tae us. He buys from other dealers and he reneged on the last AK deal we had wi' him. There's no reason we canna branch out."

Rupert shifted in his seat. "I dinna ken about this," he said, shaking his head. "The peace we make with Grant now could bring us more trouble with Sandrigham later."

"We'll deal wi' that fire when it catches," Dougal said.

Angus shook his head, drumming his fingers on the table. "These arseholes tried tae kill ye, Dougal. Are we supposed tae pretend that didna happen?"

"No," Dougal answered. "That debt gets settled, but no' by us." He nodded at one of the men standing behind the table. "Ye up for it, Hayes?"

Hayes nodded. "Aye."

"Alright, that's settled then. Let's get this vote over with," Dougal said. "All those in favor?"

A chorus of "Ayes" came from around the table.

"Any opposed?" Dougal paused for a moment. Hearing no opposition, he slammed the gavel on the table. "Motion passes. Let's party."

***

The party raged on in the clubhouse, but Jamie was in bed, exhausted from the events of the last twenty-four hours. Claire emerged from his bathroom, wearing one of his SAMCWRO t-shirts.

"That's a good look for ye," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"You think?" she asked, giving him a coquettish smile. She climbed into bed with him and snuggled against his bare chest, running a finger up and down his torso.

"Are we crazy?" she whispered.

"I'll answer that later," he replied, kissing her softly.

He made love to her slowly that night, the adrenaline rush and hungry need of the night before fell away, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of love and tenderness. With every thrust they communicated their feelings, their need for the safety they both felt in each other’s arms. When they were both sated, they fell asleep curled around each other, clinging to the calm amidst the chaos around them.


	10. Through a Glass, Darkly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He held onto her arms protectively. “It’s all smoke, Claire. They dinna have anything. They’re desperate and that’s why they’re digging around you.”
> 
> “But she knew about Frank,” she whispered.

[ ](https://ibb.co/YRq7nT2)

The next morning, Jamie was woken early by Dougal. Glancing at Claire, he slipped out of bed, threw his clothes on and went out into the main room of the clubhouse to find out what was going on. The room was scattered with sleeping bodies from the previous night's revelry. Dougal, Rupert, and Ian were sitting down at a table, talking quietly.

“We got another problem,” Dougal told him.

“I havena even had any coffee yet,” Jamie replied dryly, sitting down.

Dougal rolled his eyes and went on. “Macquarrie was supposed to make a hit on Fletcher Gordon, the Port Authority Commissioner. He interfered with a deal, and one of Macquarrie’s men was killed. We need tae make that right for him.”

“So we’re supposed tae do it?” Jamie asked.

“Aye,” Dougal replied. “And there’s a payout involved.”

“This sounds like murder for hire, Dougal. I dinna want tae get in that business,” Rupert chimed in.

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Dougal went on. “Gordon has a mistress that he takes to some seedy motel in Oakland every Sunday after church. They’ll be there soon. It’ll look like a robbery gone bad. Nobody will care what happens in that part of town.”

“I’ll do it,” Ian spoke up.

Jamie quickly turned to him. “Ian, ye dinna have tae do this.”

Dougal glared at Jamie. “If he wants tae do it, I think he should.” Then to Ian, “Ye said ye wanted back in last night.”

“Aye,” Ian replied. “Like I said, I’ll do it.”

“I’m going with ye then,” Jamie said.

"I dinna need a babysitter," Ian shot back.

"Ye'll both go, and Rupert too," Dougal declared. "Ian, they'll meet ye outside. I have tae talk tae Jamie and Rupert alone for a moment."

Ian nodded and headed out. As soon as he was out of earshot, Dougal leaned in toward Jamie and Rupert. “I want Ian tae be the one that pulls the trigger.”

“Why?” Jamie asked. “The guy just got out of prison and you’re going to make him commit murder? Jesus, Dougal.”

“He told me he wants all the way back in,” Dougal said between gritted teeth. “I need tae ken that he truly is all the way back in.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. Rupert asked, “Are ye sure, Dougal?”

“Aye. Rupert, I’m counting on ye to make sure it happens.”

“All right,” Rupert responded. “You got it boss.”

Jamie stood, kicked his chair over, and stalked out the door. Outside, Ian was leaning against one of the tow trucks, smoking a cigarette. Jamie joined him. “Ye look like shite.”

“Jenny took the kids to her mom’s house. I dinna sleep well when the house is empty.” He took a long drag on the cigarette.

Jamie took a deep breath and looked at Ian. “This job doesna make sense fer ye, Ian.”

Ian set his jaw and threw the cigarette on the ground. “Why are ye tryin tae put me off this. Ye’re the one that keeps telling me I canna live half in and half out.”

“This isna about ye being in the club. It’s about _this_ job. Ye need it too much. Any time shite like this starts being about money, things get sloppy.”

“It’s no’ about money. It’s about provin’ I’m SAMCWRO. Ye of all people should ken that.”

Jamie shrugged his shoulders. “I have nothing to prove.”

“That’s not what I hear,” Ian replied.

Before Jamie could ask him what he meant, Rupert walked out of the clubhouse. “Ye boys ready?

Ian cast Jamie a look and stared at him as he answered Rupert, “Aye. I’m ready fer this. Let’s just get it done.”

“Fine,” Jamie replied.

***

Claire woke a little while after Jamie left. When she realized he was gone, she sighed and stood to pull on her pants. She stumbled out into the clubhouse and was immediately hit by the stench of the party the night before. In the main room, men and woman were sprawled everywhere, sleeping in various states of dress. She wrinkled her nose and walked into the large kitchen to see if there was any coffee.

“Morning,” Ellen said from behind her as she poured a cup of coffee. Claire jumped and carefully set the coffee pot back on the burner.

She turned to Ellen. “Good Morning.”

“Thanks fer saving Macquarrie yesterday. He’d be dead if it wasn’t fer ye.”

Claire sipped her coffee. “You’re welcome.”

Ellen sat down on a stool and observed Claire for a few moments before saying, “Can I ask ye a question?”

Claire rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “I’m not up for a fight right now.”

Ellen put her hands up at shoulder level in a gesture of surrender. “No’ a fight. I’m just trying tae figure out what’s going between you and Jamie. I can tell ye’ve…. reconnected.” She looked Claire up and down disdainfully.

“I don’t know what business that is of yours, Ellen.”

“So, how’s this gonna work?” Ellen asked, tilting her head and squinting her eyes at Claire as she spoke. “Ye gonna become his old lady? What’s that gonna look like? Ye gonna operate on kids by day and patch up bullet wounds by night?”

“Look, I get it. Can we drop it now?” Claire asked, setting her jaw at Ellen.

Ellen stood and moved closer to Claire. “I ken ye hate me. But trust me when I tell ye that this isna about me being some overbearing bitch. This isna even about me being Jamie’s mother. This is someone telling ye the truth. This isna going tae work and one of ye had better start thinking clearly before ye both get hurt.”

“This wouldn’t be my first bad idea. Maybe bad ideas are all I have left.”

Ellen put an arm around Claire, who stiffened at her touch. “I ken ye. I’ve kent ye since ye were a wee lass. You are smarter and more strong-willed than anyone I’ve ever met. Ye better use a that to shine a light on thing with Jamie. He’ll never leave ye, ye ken? You have tae be the one tae break this off.”

“Thank you for the company, Ellen.” Claire slipped out from under Ellen’s arm and headed toward the door. “This was all very illuminating.”

***

Jamie leaned against a car in the parking lot of a motel in Oakland. Ian and Rupert stood before him as they made plans for the attack on Gordon. “Ian,” Rupert said, “You and I will go up tae the room. Jamie, lad, ye stay down here and cover the stairs, make sure no one comes. When ye hear the shot, run tae the car and get it started.”

“Aye,” Jamie replied, pulling his baseball cap down low over his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

They walked to the bottom of the rickety, metal stairs and with a nod Rupert and Ian ascended them. Jamie waited anxiously, tapping his fingers against his thigh. He listened carefully, tracking their movements. A knock, then a male voice, “Can I help you?” A pause. It was only a second, but it felt like an eternity as Jamie waited to hear the sound of the silenced pistol.

Finally, it came right before the sounds of Rupert and Ian clanging down the staircase. Jamie was already ahead of them, diving into the car and starting the engine. Rupert and Ian joined him, their large bodies tumbling into the back seat. He hit the gas and they were gone.

“What the hell happened?” Jamie asked, turning his head briefly to see them.

Ian had gone completely pale, his skin a sickening whitish yellow. “I froze,” he said quietly. “I fucking froze.”

“It’s done!” Rupert replied, grabbing him by the shirt. “Do ye hear me? It’s done.”

Ian leaned against the window, closing his eyes. “Ian, man,” Jamie called back to him, “Are ye going tae puke?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes still closed. “Just leave me alone.”

They drove the rest of the way back to Leoch in silence.

***

A few days later, Claire stood in the nursery, checking on William. She lifted his head gently and checked his soft spot before lowering his head gently and caressing the top of it. She listened to his heart, his breathing. All was looking good. He was getting plump and he was such a happy little boy. She couldn’t believe how far he’d come in such a short time.

She also couldn’t believe how fond she’d become of him. It was no secret to anyone that she spent more time with him that her other patients. It made sense, given her close ties to Jamie and his family, but there was more than that. The little boy had stolen her heart, along with his father, and she couldn’t help but imagine them being a family.

Ellen’s words still echoed through her head. She hadn’t let them stop her from spending the last several nights with Jamie. Yes, part of it was because she couldn’t imagine going back to her house. The thought of sleeping in that room where she had almost been raped, where Frank had lain dead, made her want to vomit. But she also wanted to be with Jamie. He made her feel safe and protected. Loved. And, not for nothing, but the sex _was_ amazing.

She had promised herself that she would spend the night in her own home tonight, though. She had to do it at some point, and it was time to rip off the band aid. She couldn't just shack up with Jamie at the clubhouse forever.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice she had company until she heard a quiet rapping on the window of the nursery. She looked up and saw a woman standing on the other side. She was wearing a no-nonsense business suit and a determined look on her face. With one last pat of Willie’s head, she walked out of the nursery and into the hallway.

“Can I help you?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

The woman pulled a badge out of her breast pocket, “Geneva Dunsaney, ATF. Can I have a word?”

Though Claire was a nervous wreck inside, she kept it together. “Of course, let’s sit.” She gestured to a small bench in the hallway.

The two women settled themselves on the bench. Claire kept her arms crossed; the two women stared at each other, both wanting the other to break and go first.

Finally, Dunsaney opened a folder she had been carrying. “Tell me about your history with SAMCWRO.”

Claire looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t see what my history with SAMCRWO has to do with anything.”

Dunsaney leaned forward, smirking at Claire. “Let’s see,” she said, looking through folder, “your mom died when you were nine and you left your drunk daddy eleven years ago to go live with your Aunt in San Diego.”

“My Uncle Lamb.” Claire dead panned.

“Ah yes, thank you.” She made a show of looking through the file again. “So, you graduated from both undergrad and med school with honors, did your residency at Loyola. Very impressive.”

“I know. I was there.”

Dunsaney smugly chuckled. “Yes, and now you’re here. In this mediocre hospital, in this pitiful armpit of a town. Hanging with your ex and his motorcycle club. So, I ask again, why?”

“My personal life isn’t any of your business.”

“I know you’ve been spending time with him. You’ve been sleeping at the clubhouse the last three nights.” Dunsaney narrowed her eyes.

Claire refused to let this woman get to her. “What do you think you are going to get out of this? Why does it matter where I sleep?”

“Fine,” Dunsaney said, closing her folder, “have you seen any illegal activities while you’ve been there?”

Claire leaned in closely, looking Dunsaney directly in the eye. “No.”

“Well then,” Dunsaney replied, standing up and brushing her hands over her pant legs to smooth any wrinkles. “Here’s my card. You let me know if you do.”

Claire took the card and tucked it in her pocket. “I’ll be sure to do that. Have a good day Detective.”

Dunsaney started to walk away and then turned around, as if she had forgotten to tell her something. Claire was not fooled by her practiced show, but she continued to play along.

“Oh, by the way,” Dunsaney said casually. “Frank Randall never got off the plane in Chicago.”

Claire stood as well. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Well, yes, it is. Threw away his whole career for love. You’d be smart to think about not doing the same.” Then she turned and walked away.

***

As Jamie stepped out of the elevators in the hospital, he passed Detective Dunsaney in the hallway. They locked eyes and passed each other, but neither said anything.

He found Claire standing in the hallway outside of the nursery, staring out a window. “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her gently on the temple. “You ok? Why was Dunsaney here?”

Claire turned around and grabbed his arm. “Not here. Come on.” She pulled him into the doctor’s lounge. “She knew all about us, Jamie. She asked me if I’d seen any illegal activity at the clubhouse.”

“And what did ye say?” he asked.

Claire gave him an incredulous look. “I told her ‘no,’ of course.”

He held onto her arms protectively. “It’s all smoke, Claire. They dinna have anything. They’re desperate and that’s why they’re digging around you.”

“But she knew about Frank,” she whispered.

“Look, Frank was a wanted man. They’re gonna think he didn’t show in Chicago because he didn’t want to go to jail. He could be halfway around the world by now.” He pulled her in, placing her head on his chest, and stroked her hair with his strong, comforting hand. “I promise you this will not blow back on you. I would never let anything hurt you.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter, hoping he could convey to her how fiercely he would always protect her.

***

On his way out of the hospital, Jamie’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket as he got on his bike. “Hello?”

“It’s Dougal. Ye need to get here now. We’re going to the table. Now.”

“Alright, Alright,” Jamie responded. “I’m on my way.” He started the motorcycle and sped off toward the clubhouse.

When he arrived, everybody was around the table, even the Prospect, Half-Sack. John Grey sat at the head of the table with Dougal. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. Jamie took his seat and Dougal called the meeting to order. “I’m going to yield the table to our friend, Chief Grey, who has a few things to tell us.”

“Thanks, Dougal,” John began. “Look, I come to you all as a friend. I’ve worked with SAMCWRO for years, and you’ve all done a lot for me, so I owe you this much.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “A ton of shit went down today. Dunsaney and her ATF cronies took over the police station. I’ve been banned from my own office as a ‘security risk.’ This morning, they raised Gillian’s studio and found drugs, Viagra, some uppers, blow. They threw her in jail, arrested for possession with intent to sell.”

The men around the table all grumbled, looking around at each other. “What does this have to do with the club?” Fergus asked.

“I think they’re trying to go RICO on you guys. They’re gathering as much information as they can from as many people as they can,” John responded. “They arrested Mary Hawkins, too.”

Half-sack shot up straight in his chair. He’d been dating Mary for a month. “On what charge?” he asked, incredulously.

“Apparently, she burned down her ex-boyfriend’s house in Arizona. She’s been on the run for over a year,” John said. “Did you know anything about that?”

Half-sack shook his heads and sat back in his chair again, looking dazed and confused.

“All right,” Angus said, “I understand arresting Mary. She was already wanted and spends a lot of time here. But why Gillian? She’s got connections to the club, but she never hangs around here.”

“Horrocks,” Jamie said.

“BINGO!” John exclaimed. “I think they’re going to use Gillian’s arrest to leverage a deal with Horrocks.”

“Shit,” Dougal said, banging his fist on the table.

“He’s on federal watch. No visitors,” John told them.

“Horrocks would never rat,” Murtagh said from his end of the table.

“Ye sure about that?” Jamie asked. “He’s been in there a long time. A guy in that position, who thinks his wife is in danger? All he would have to do is give one little detail, some old shit. That’s all they need to add to the RICO file.”

Murtagh glared at Jamie. “And Claire? Do we have tae worry about her?”

“Don’t you dare!” Jamie growled back. “Dunsaney already went to see her and she didn’t say anything to her. Do not bring her into this.”

“Quiet!” Dougal yelled. “Fighting wi’ each other is no’ going tae solved anything. Anything else John?”

“I just think ye ought to try to get to Gillian somehow. They’re letting her visit Horrocks tonight,” John suggested.

“Aye,” Jamie said, “we need to tell her about RICO so she warns Horrocks not to say anything.”

“Yeah, but how are we going tae get to her with ATF and the local police all over the police station?” Rupert asked.

"The ATF agents will be gone after dark. That leaves four of my officers and a dispatcher to get rid of," John said.

"We could cause a distraction," Rupert suggested. "Something that would get all of the cops out at once."

"Aye," Murtagh said mischievously. "Like a bar fight. I think that's something that can be arranged."

"Alright," Dougal said, smiling. "Murtagh, Fergus, and Rupert, ye figure out a way to get a bar brawl going without getting yourselves arrested. Ian and Jamie, ye'll go with John and break into the cells. Let Gillian ken what she needs to tell Horrocks."

"What about Mary?" Half-sack asked.

"We'll see," Dougal replied. "Let's vote to make the plan official. All in favor?" All the men raised their hands. Sheepishly, John started to raise his hand too.

"Put yer hand down, ye clot-heid," Dougal told him, rolling his eyes.

***

That night, before executing their plan to get information to Gillian, Jamie threw Claire's overnight bag in the back of his car and drove to the hospital to pick her up. She had told him that she wanted to spend the night at her own house that night, and despite being shaken up by Dunsaney's little visit, she was determined to do it.

When they arrived at her house, he carried her bag in for her and placed it on the floor of her bedroom. "Are ye sure ye want tae do this? I could stay."

"No," she answered firmly, looking around the room, "I need to do this on my own. I can't be scared of sleeping in my own home anymore."

He pulled her into him and kissed her. "Christ, yer a brave wee thing." She looked up, smiling at him, but then pulled away. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I was just thinking…. what would have happened if you'd left with me eleven years ago?" she asked, turning away from him.

Jamie scrunched up his face, trying to figure out where the conversation was headed. Finally, he leaned on her dresser and asked, "What would have happened if ye'd stayed eleven years ago?"

She turned to him. "Maybe I wouldn't have killed somebody."

" _You_ didna kill him, Claire. I did. Don't put that shite on yerself."

"If it weren't for me, Jamie, Frank wouldn't have been here, and you wouldn't have had to kill him."

"Stop! Just stop!" He grabbed her by the arms and lifted her chin, so she was forced to look in his eyes. "I canna stand tae hear ye blame yerself. Claire, not everything is yer fault. It wasna yer fault that Frank turned out to be a fucking psycho and it wasna yer fault that I put him down. I would do it all again, too."

She pulled away from him, crossing her arms. "Your mom thinks we need to end this."

"And do ye believe her?" he asked.

"I don't even know what _this_ is Jamie. What if I'm just with you because I feel guilty about Frank. I don't know!" She threw her hands in the air in frustration. "What do _you_ want, Jamie?"

He paused, carefully considering before answering. Finally, he sighed and said, calmly, "What I want, is for ye tae stop listening to my crazy ass mother and get some sleep." He pulled her in again and kissed her on top of the head.

She relented this time and relaxed into his arms, mumbling into his chest, "We need to figure this out, Jamie."

"Do ye love me?" he asked. She was silent. He waited a few seconds and then said, "It's no' a complicated question, Claire."

"But it's a complicated answer," she replied, looking him in the eyes.

"Aye," he said, "I suppose that's true." Bending down, he gave her a gentle kiss before pulling away from her. "Get some sleep, and call me if ye need anything, ok?"

She nodded, "Ok. Good night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you for reading and for all your wonderful comments. I want you to know that I do read every single one of them, even if I'm not able to respond to them all! With the volume of fic I write, it can be difficult to get to comments, so please know that they appreciated and you are heard, even if I can't always write back!


	11. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dunsaney slowly walked over to where Rupert was lying face down on the ground. Nodding to the two officers standing nearby, they lifted him up on his feet. "Rupert MacKenzie," she said, slapping handcuffs on his wrists, "You're under arrest for the murder of Fletcher Gordon."

[ ](https://ibb.co/YRq7nT2)

Jamie picked up Ian and John on the way to the police station. They sat in the car, waiting for the cop cars to leave, their signal to go in. "All right," Jamie said. "When they leave, John and I will go in. Ian, ye stay here in the car."

"Aye," Ian responded. Jamie was worried about his best friend. He'd been even more withdrawn since the incident with Fletcher Gordon the other day.

There was no time for that, though. He heard the cop cars start up and saw their lights come alive. As the cars left the parking lot, Jamie and John opened their doors and exited the car, running quietly into the police station. John handed Jamie the keys to the cell and waited out in the hallway.

Jamie unlocked the door to the long hallway that held the cells and ran down to where Gillian was being held. "Jamie, what are ye doing here?" she asked.

"Listen, I came tae warn ye. They're going tae take ye tae see Otto tomorrow. Ye have tae get a message tae him. Tell him that the feds are trying tae build a RICO case and he can't give them _anything_."

"Ok, ok," she responded.

"Ye alright in here?" he asked.

"Och, dinna fash about me, Jamie. But that one," she gestured with her head toward the next cell, "I dinna ken about her."

"Thanks, Gillian."

He moved down to the next cell. Mary was leaning against the bars, waiting for him. "Jamie," she said, trembling and stuttering, "you have to g-g-g-et me out of h-h-h-ere."

"No, I canna."

Panic took over her eyes. "J-j-j-amie. You have to! I c-c-c-an't stay here. I'll r-r-r-at. I w-w-w-on't go to p-p-p-rison."

Jamie took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "Fine." He used the key to open the cell and ushered her out.

When they got out into the main hallway, John's eyes went wide as he saw Mary with Jamie. "What the hell, Fraser? You busted her out?"

"I had tae. She was gonna rat."

"Hey, aren't you the p-p-p-olice chief?" Mary asked.

"I don't know what I am anymore," John replied, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Get her intae the car," Jamie said. "I'm gonna go tae yer office and see if I can find anything on the case."

John took Mary by the arm and walked her away. Jamie ran quietly down the hall to John's office. The door was ajar, and he heard the sound of sobbing from inside, a woman's voice. "Oh…. oh God…. oh…."

Peeking in carefully, he saw Detective Dunsaney sitting at John's desk with her face buried in her hands at the desk. _What the hell was she doing? Was she crying?_

Her noises increased in volume and urgency, sounding less like crying and more like….

Suddenly, Jack Randall rose up, shirtless from underneath the desk and Jamie covered his mouth to suppress a giggle. He quickly turned and ran off quietly.

***

The next morning, he woke early, immediately wondering how Claire was doing after their talk the night before. He knew she needed some space to sort out her feelings, and he would give her what she needed.

She loved him, that he knew, even if she was unable to say it yet. If she was anything like him, she'd never stopped loving him. But after all those years of suppressing those feelings, burying them deep down, it was confusing to have them rise to the surface.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he laughed to himself about what he'd seen in John's office the night before. Truly, it wasn’t a laughing matter; the two of them in cahoots with each other could bring nothing but trouble. What was Jack thinking? Dunsaney's goal was to wreak havoc on SAMCWRO. As much as the idea likely appealed to Jack, surely, he could see the repercussions would not be good for Leoch. Or maybe not. He often had a hard time seeing the big picture of things.

Sighing, he rose from his bed and got dressed. He needed coffee and then he needed to go to the hospital to see Willie and Claire.

Most of the club members had already woken and were sitting around the main room talking and laughing. Jamie went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. When he went back into the main room, Dougal was just coming in from outside.

"Talked to Ned Gowan," he said. "Gillian is free and clear." Jamie smiled with relief. They'd also sent Mary off the night before to stay hidden from the police while all of this blew over, so everybody was safe. _At least for now._

"What happened with Horrocks?" Rupert asked.

Dougal smiled broadly. "He's gonna be doing more time."

"What? Why?" Jamie asked.

"He shattered Dunsaney's face."

The men erupted in laughter and cheers. "I love that guy!" Angus exclaimed.

"We are free of the ATF!" Dougal shouted over the melee. Let's have a drink to that."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Christ, Dougal. It's only eight in the morning."

Fergus's voice cut through the sounds of celebration. "Guys!" He was staring at the security cameras on his laptop. "Guys! Police!!!"

A full SWAT team burst through the doors and the room erupted in chaos. The cops began grabbing the men and throwing them to the ground. Jamie tried to run but was wrenched back by the collar of his shirt.

He hit the ground face down, seeing stars. The cops were yelling orders; he could just barely hear them over the ringing in his ears. When he was able to lift his head, he saw Detective Dunsaney entering the room. Her face was covered with cuts and bruises, a large bandage across her swollen nose. Despite all this, she wore a smug look of satisfaction on her face as she surveyed the room.

She slowly walked over to where Rupert was lying face down on the ground. Nodding to the two officers standing nearby, they lifted him up on his feet. "Rupert MacKenzie," she said, slapping handcuffs on his wrists, "You're under arrest for the murder of Fletcher Gordon."

Rupert stood stoically; his head held high. He let the officers walk him out the door. “I’ll call Ned Gowan!” Dougal yelled after him.

***

They met at the table two hours later, after everyone had a chance to pull themselves together. Dougal had called Ned Gowan to get as much information as possible about what evidence the Feds might have and start working on getting Rupert out of police custody as soon as possible.

“They have a witness,” Dougal told them grimly. “ATF says the witness saw Rupert kill Gordon.”

Jamie shook his head. “It was all clear from my end. This must be a bluff.”

“Ye canna charge someone on a bluff,” Dougal growled back. “Whatever they have must be real.”

“So, who’s the witness?” Angus asked, looking around the table.

“We’re a man short,” Fergus pointed out, looking pointedly at Ian’s empty seat.

“Where’s Ian?” Dougal asked.

“I called every number we have for him,” Fergus replied. “Tried Jenny’s number too.”

Murtagh slammed his fist down on the table. “Maybe she changed her number. My son is no’ a rat, and he’ll tell ye that when we find him.”

“I’ll go find him,” Jamie said, pushing his chair back.

“You better,” Angus muttered.

“What the hell is that supposed tae mean?” Murtagh growled.

“There were three witnesses tae that shooting,” Angus said, holding up three fingers. “One is sitting here and the other is in jail. You do the math.”

The table erupted in shouts of accusation. Murtagh and Angus stood, only the table between them keeping them from launching themselves at each other.

“Stop! Just stop!” Jamie yelled, standing and putting his hands out.

Dougal banged the gavel on the table until the room got quiet again and the men sat down. “Everybody just calm down! Our nerves are shot! Now, Jamie is going tae find him. He’s going tae bring him here, and we’re going tae figure this out.”

Jamie began walking out of the room, but Murtagh stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Ian just doesna ken what happened, Jamie. I ken he’d be here if he did.”

“Aye,” Jamie replied. “I’ll find him.”

***

Claire walked into the nursery where Ellen was sitting in a rocking chair, feeding Willie. She smiled to herself at the tender way this beast of a woman tenderly held her grandson, cooing at him in Gaelic. Ellen heard her come in and looked up. “He’s eating better,” she said to Claire. “How’s his sleep apnea?”

Claire smiled. “No incidents the last two nights. I think he’s through it. If there’s nothing tonight, he should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“You hear that, _a chuisle_? Yer gonna get tae go home tomorrow?” Ellen said to the boy, smiling. Willie had finished eating and was drifting off to sleep. She stood up and walked over to the nearby bassinet, gently placing him in.

“Can I ask a question?” Claire said, as Ellen turned back around. “Who’s going to take care of him?”

“I will,” Ellen replied, dismissing her with a wave of the hand.

“Ellen, you and I both know that this is a twenty-four-seven job. Are you up for that? Because I don’t think Jamie is. He has no idea what he’s in for.” Claire walked over the bassinet and placed a hand gently on Willie’s head.

“Well, we can agree on that,” Ellen said, giving her a sardonic smile. “All men are clueless, though, Claire. His father was. But they figure it out. They don’t really have a choice, do they?”

“Hmmmm,” Claire replied, absent-mindedly stroking the top of Willie’s head.

Ellen looked at her thoughtfully. “You want kids, Doc?”

Claire pulled her hand away from Willie quickly and answered, “Yes,” she replied. “Right guy. Right time.”

“You getting close to that?”

Claire crossed her arms and looked Ellen in the eye. “What exactly are you asking me Ellen?”

“If you’re in Jamie’s life, you’re in his,” Ellen replied, pointing to Willie. “I got every right tae ken how ye feel about kids.”

“We haven’t discussed it.”

“Well ye better start,” Ellen snapped back. “This is a huge responsibility, and yer gonna have tae decide if yer in or out.”

Claire tossed her head back defiantly, “If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”  
  


“Good,” Ellen said, looking at Claire smugly. “Because I don’t mind playing mommy for a little while, but eventually I would like tae sit back and be gramma.” Claire stared at her, trying to figure out the meaning in Ellen’s inscrutable face, but Ellen turned away. “I’ve got tae go for now. Ye think about what we just talked about, aye?”

Claire nodded as Ellen walked out of the room.

She went about her daily tasks, busying herself visiting with her patients. It was a quiet day, thankfully, with no surgeries on her schedule. A few hours after Ellen left, she was standing at the nurse’s station, looking over some charts when she felt a presence behind her.

Turning around, she saw Laoghaire standing before. This wasn’t the Laoghaire of two months ago, though. This Laoghaire had a pink glow to her cheeks’ her blonde hair shone in the light that came in through a nearby window. She looked healthy, happy. “Laoghaire! You look…wonderful.”

“Thank ye,” she said quietly. “Sixty-four days sober.”

“That’s great news Laoghaire,” Claire said. She reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I…I went by Jamie’s house, but they changed the locks. The back door was open, though, so I dropped my bags off there. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” Claire asked, concerned.

She nodded. “I’m moving to a sober living facility in a week. I’m going tae stay in a hotel until then. I just needed…I needed to find out how my son is, and I didna ken where else tae go. I figured ye would at least tell me that much.”

Claire nodded and placed her charts back in the small wire holder where they were kept. “I can do better than that, Laoghaire. Would you like to see him?”

Laoghaire’s face went white. “Ye’d do that fer me?”

“Of course,” Claire smiled warmly. “You’re his mother.”

“I ken, Claire, but…I signed my rights away.”

“It’s ok,” Claire said, taking her by the arm and leading her toward the nursery. “There’s no direct orders saying you can’t be here. All I know is that you’re the mother on his birth certificate.”

Laoghaire smiled, understanding. She let Claire lead her into the nursery. “Sit here,” she said, pointing to the rocking chair. “I’ll go get him.”

She walked into the larger nursery area where Willie spent most of his time now, no longer needing the constant monitoring he had needed two months ago. She scooped him up and whispered, “Your mother is here, little guy. She wants to meet you. Is that alright? Of course it is.”

She walked back into the visiting room and handed the baby to Laoghaire. Her face went pale again as she took the baby in her arms. “He’s so big now,” she managed to choke out.

Claire smiled and nodded. “He’s doing great. He should be going home tomorrow.”

Laoghaire’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at her son. “Thank ye Claire. I can’t thank ye enough. For everything.”

“It’s alright,” she replied. “Just doing my job. Would you like to feed him?” She handed Laoghaire one of the bottles of pre-made formula they kept on hand.

Loaghaire took the bottle and gently rubbed the nipple against Willie’s lips until he opened his mouth and took it, drinking blissfully. “I ken ye didna have tae do this, Claire. Thank ye so much.”

“I’m proud of you Laoghaire,” Claire told her.

Laoghaire blushed and looked at Willie instead of meeting Claire’s eyes. “How’s Jamie?” she asked.

Claire paused, choosing her words carefully. “He’s doing well, as far as I can see.”

“God, I miss him,” Laoghaire said, bending down to kiss the top of Willie’s head.

Claire felt a sharp pang in her stomach. She’d been so glad to see Laoghaire doing so well that she hadn’t even considered the implications of her return. Ellen was right; taking care of a baby was a huge responsibility, and Jamie’s schedule wasn’t exactly conducive to meeting the needs of a newborn. As for Claire, she didn’t even know where she stood with Jamie. It wasn’t as if she was just going to pack up her things and move in with him to play mommy to a baby that didn’t even belong to her when she wasn’t even sure if she was in a relationship with his father.

Maybe it would be better if Laoghaire and Jamie gave it another go. With Laoghaire sober, and her son an inspiration to stay so, it might be better for everyone if Jamie gave it a go with her again. Jamie had certainly changed since Willie had been born and it was clear Laoghaire was getting her act together. Maybe things would be different for them this time. Willie deserved to know his mother and Jamie deserved a chance at happiness.

Willie had finished his bottle and was snuggled peacefully against Laoghaire. “I’m sorry to do this right now, but I really should take him back to the nursery now. If you want to hang around in the waiting room for a bit, I’m sure Jamie will be by later.”

Laoghaire nodded and handed Willie back to her gently. “I’ll do that, Claire. Thank ye again.”

Claire smiled at her and nodded toward the exit as she took Willie through the door to the nursery. When the door closed behind her she leaned against it, trying to control her breath. _This is for the best, Beauchamp_ , she told herself over and over before she walked Willie back to his bassinet. She looked around to see if any of the nurses were around. Seeing none, she placed a small kiss on the top of Willie’s head before placing him in the bassinet gently.

***

Jamie headed to Ian’s house immediately after leaving the clubhouse. He rang the doorbell and then pounded on the door. Getting no answer, he looked around briefly and then reached under the mat, finding a small silver key. He unlocked the door and walked in. “Hello?” he called, making sure nobody was there.

He moved slowly through the house, looking for any signs of where Ian and his family might be. The house was a bit messy, but nothing out of the ordinary for a family with busy lives and two bairns. His eye caught sight of a pile of papers on a counter, so he went over and glanced through them, finding nothing but bills until a small card slipped out through the pile and fell to the floor. Jamie bent down to pick it up; a shock of terror seized his chest when he saw the name on the business card. _Geneva Dunsaney. ATF._

He stood quickly, causing his head to reel. Quickly, he ripped the card into tiny pieces and threw them into the trash can. Whatever had happened, nobody else needed to know that the Murray’s had been paid a visit by that loathsome bitch.

Making sure everything was as he had found it, Jamie quickly left the house, locking the door behind him and placing the key back under the mat. When he started to walk towards his bike, he saw that one of Ian’s neighbors was out in her yard, eyeing Jamie suspiciously.

Jamie put on his most charming smile and walked over to the woman. “Morning’”

“You here to take care of the Murray’s house?” she asked, taking a long drag off her cigarette.

“Aye,” Jamie replied. “Just checking on things.” The woman nodded and Jamie went on. “I got a message from a friend that Ian needed the house looked after, but I dinna ken where he went. Did ye see anything?”

The woman squinted her eyes at Jamie and replied, “Around 2:30 this morning, the headlights from the cars woke us up.”

“Cars?” Jamie asked.

“Three black SUVs. They pulled up and a couple of people got out, disappeared into the house. About a half hour later, the whole family came out and got into the cars.” She had obviously taken a keen interest in the goings on of her neighbors. Good for later gossip with the rest of the neighbors, no doubt.

“Did they have him in cuffs?”

“No,” she said. “He was carrying one of the kids and they all had overnight bags. Did he get in trouble with the police again?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie said, shaking his head. He really didn’t. “Thank ye for the information, though.”

The woman shrugged and puffed on her cigarette again. “No problem.”

Jamie got on his bike. His mind was a raging storm of worries, possibilities, and doubts. He started the ride to the clubhouse, telling himself the whole time that Ian would never turn on the club, never rat. But still, something had happened, and he needed answers.

He pulled into the parking lot outside the garage and saw his mother talking to a woman in the doorway of the office. _What now?_ he thought, getting off the bike and walking cautiously toward them. As he got closer, his heart sank as he realized who it was. Anna, Ian’s mother.

Ellen saw him approaching and excused herself, walking toward Jamie. “What’s she doing here?” Jamie asked in a low voice.

“She’s got tae go pick up her grandkids from a Department of Justice facility. What the hell is going on, Jamie?” Ellen asked through clenched teeth.

Anna caught Jamie’s eye, and he smiled as he approached her. “What the hell did my son do this time?”

“Nice tae see ye too, Anna,” Jamie replied cheekily. “If ye do happen tae see Ian, will ye tell him I’m looking for him.”

“Oh sure,” Anna replied, already starting to walk away in a huff. “While I’m schlepping my ass seventy-five miles to pick up my grandkids, I’ll be sure to give Ian your message.” She brushed past him and headed to her car.

Jamie gave Ellen a questioning look, but she just shrugged in return. “Ye better go see Dougal,” she said. “He’s lookin’ for ye.”

Jamie said and steeled himself for delivering the news he had learned of Ian over the last hour. When he walked into the clubhouse, Angus, Fergus, and Dougal were all sitting at a small table, talking. “What did ye find out?” Dougal asked him immediately.

“Nothin,’” Jamie replied, spinning a chair around and sitting in it backwards. “The Fed picked him up in the middle of the night, the whole family. No cuffs.”

“Look at this,” Fergus said, pushing a pile of papers in front of Jamie. “I hacked into the bank’s server. A shit ton of Ian’s debts have been paid off. Mortgage, car payment, credit cards, all by a Federal wire transfer this morning.”

Jamie rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s gotta be a set up,” he said stubbornly. “They just want us tae think that Ian is cooperating with them. They want us to panic, make a mistake. We have tae stay calm until we ken for sure what happened.”

Dougal nodded. “I think it’s a setup too, but we canna be sure until we talk to Ian.”

Angus had been drumming his hands on the table the whole time. “Ye got something tae say, then say it,” Jamie said to him.

“Ye all want tae believe that Ian wouldnda do this, but all the evidence says that Ian gave up Rupert for Federal protection.”

“But they didna even arrest him, Angus,” Jamie replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “What would their leverage be?”

“A new, debt free life sounds like enough leverage tae me,” Angus sneered.

“Enough!” Jamie shouted. “Ian did five years in prison for this club. Why would he turn around and rat on us now?”

Dougal placed a steadying hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Enough! Both of ye. I’m going tae call Ned Gowan and see what he’s found out.” Angus stormed out of the room. Dougal turned to Jamie and said, more gently, “We all love Ian, lad. And none of us wants tae believe he would rat on us. But we have tae prepare ourselves for a truth we might not like.”

Jamie rested his head on his hands, rubbing at his temple. “He’d _never_ sell out the club.”

“And if he did?” Dougal asked, eyebrow raised.

Jamie looked Dougal in the eye and answered, “Then I’ll kill him myself."


	12. All Debts Paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighed deeply and went on. “Dunsaney went tae see Jenny a couple days ago. She offered tae pay off a bunch of our debts and put Jenny and the kids in witness protection if she gave up information on the club..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot today was Monday!

[ ](https://ibb.co/YRq7nT2)

_ Inside the club there had to be truth. Our word was our honor. But outside it was all about deception. Lies were our defense, our default. To survive you had to master the art of perjury. The lie and the truth had to feel the same. But once you learn that skill, nobody knows the truth, in or outside the club...especially you. _

Brian Fraser, January 1992

Jamie needed to clear his head. There was no way that Ian would ever turn on the club, and yet…he shook his head, forbidding the thoughts to come to the forefront. Getting on his motorcycle, he strapped on his helmet and headed toward the hospital. He knew Ellen would be at his house, preparing everything for Willie’s imminent move home. 

He’d avoided moving back into the house; there were too many bad memories there. But that was something he could no longer put off. Willie would be coming home, and it was time to replace the old memories with new ones. He pictures rocking Willie in the chair next to his crib, rough housing with the lad in the living room when he was older. And always, Claire was there, offering to take the baby so he could get some sleep, telling them to be careful lest one of them get hurt. 

When he arrived at the hospital, he saw no sign of Claire, so he went directly to the nursery. One of the nurses helped him get settled with Willie and then left him alone. Jamie rocked him telling him all the things he had planned for their future together, promising his son a life of peace, a life with no bloodshed.

He was so transfixed on his son, he didn’t even notice when Claire quietly entered the room. “Hey,” she said quietly. Willie had fallen asleep, lulled by the rocking and the melodic tones of Jamie’s voice. 

Jamie looked up, his shoulders releasing a tension he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. “Hello, beautiful,” he replied.

She blushed a deep shade of crimson and smiled briefly, but her face quickly took on a more detached demeanor. “There’s somebody here to see you.”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Claire curiously. She pointed to the nursery window. When he turned his head, he was shocked to see his ex-wife smiling at him, looking bonny and braw. “Laoghaire?” he asked Claire. “Did ye do this?”

Claire shook her head. “She came on her own. Here, give me Willie. You go talk to her.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached out and pulled Willie from his arms.

Jamie stepped out of the nursery and confronted Laoghaire. “Did ye leave rehab?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“No…no,” she assured him. “I finished the program there. I’m clean Jamie. Sixty-four days sober.”

Jamie let out his breath and reached out to pull her in for a hug. “That’s fantastic!” he said, squeezing her tight. She laughed nervously and he realized what he was doing. Gently pushing her away, he examined her closely. “Ye look great, Laoghaire. Truly.”

“Thank ye,” she said, stepping back. “I hope ye dinna mind that I came. Claire…please dinna be mad at her, Jamie, but she let me see Willie earlier.”

“Och,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Why would I be mad? Yer his mother, after all. Ye deserve tae see him.”

“Thank ye Jamie,” she said, her face relaxing. “I can’t stay long; I’ve got some things I need tae take care of.” 

“Do ye want tae hold him again?”

Tears in her eyes, she nodded. Jamie ushered her into the nursery. Claire gave them both a warm smile. As she handed Willie over to Laoghaire again, Jamie could have sworn he saw tears pooled at the bottom of her eyelids as well. “I’ve got some things to do,” Claire told them. “I’ll leave you alone.” She rushed out of the room before Jamie could protest.

He sighed, knowing it was likely hard for her to see him with Laoghaire and Willie. He filed that thought away to be dealt with later and handed Laoghaire a bottle for Willie. When she was settled in, he asked, “Where are ye staying, lass?”

“I’m moving into a sober living facility in a few days. Until then, I’ll be staying at the Ramada. I have tae stay away from my old friends, ye ken?”

He nodded. “My mother changed the locks at the house.”

“I ken,” she replied. “I…. I…stopped there first; tried to get in the front door but my key didna work. The back was open, though. I left my bag there. I hope ye dinna mind. I just didn’t want to bring them here. I’ll go get them after we’re done here.”

“Dinna fash, Laoghaire. I’d let ye stay there, but with my mother around, ye may be safer at the Ramada.” They both laughed nervously, knowing he was only half joking. “I’ve got some business tae take care of, Laoghaire. I’ll leave ye here.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and twisted one off the ring. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “So ye can get yer things.”

“Thank ye, Jamie,” Laoghaire said.

“I’ll see ye soon,” he told her. 

He left the nursery and headed toward the elevators, knowing that he had to turn his focus back on Ian mess. Unfortunately, when he saw his mother sitting on a bench in the hallway, he knew he’d have another mess to deal with first.

“Family reunion?” Ellen asked snidely when she saw him.

“How long have ye been spying on us, Ma?” he shot back.

“Since 1978.”

“Christ, Ma! She just wants tae hold her kid. Ye of all people should get that.”

Ellen stood, her eyes blazing with anger. “Ye think she has a right tae hold that baby? After all this?”

Instead of firing back, Jamie looked to the ground. “She has as much right as I do. Dinna forget that I bailed on that kid too. I’m getting a chance tae make up for it; why shouldn’t she?”

“Is she clean, at least?” Ellen snapped.

“Aye,” he nodded. “She’s moving intae a halfway house in a few days.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Her bags are already at the house. She may as well stay there.”

Jamie looked at her suspiciously. “Really?”

“You ken me, Jamie. I’m all about second chances.”

Jamie burst out laughing at that. “No ye’re not.”

His mother shrugged. “Maybe I’m feeling generous,” she told him. “Have ye heard anything about Ian or Rupert?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. I canna find Ian. I dinna ken what’s going to happen.”

Ellen pulled him in for a hug and he sank into it. No matter how obnoxious and infuriating his mother was, he still always felt comforted in her arms. “I ken he didna rat,” she whispered. “I’ve kent that lad since he was in diapers, just as ye have, and he would never betray ye like that.”

Jamie nodded and quickly swiped away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I’ve gotta go Ma. I have tae get back to the clubhouse and see what’s going on.” 

She kissed his cheek before letting him go. “It’s all going tae be ok, baby,” she assured him.

As he left the hospital, his phone rang. He picked it up quickly when he saw Ian’s name on the called ID. “Ian? Where are ye?”

There was no answer at first. Finally, Ian said, “I’m home.”

“Ian,” Jamie pleaded. “Ye have tae come to the clubhouse on your own volition. Ye have tae explain what happened.”

“I ken, Jamie. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll see ye then.” He hung up the phone and got on his bike, hurrying to the clubhouse to let everyone know Ian was on the way.

***

“We’re gonna have a safe table,” Dougal said an hour later. “No cell phones. Put ‘em in the box before ye come in the room.”

Each man deposited their cell phone in the small bin Angus was holding before taking their seat at the table. Ian had not yet arrived and the tension in the room was palpable. Each man sat silently, occasionally exchanging looks with one or the other. Angus waited anxiously by the door. 

Finally, Angus stuck his head in and said, “He’s here.”

The room quieted as Ian walked in. Jamie stood and walked over to his best friend, embracing him in a show of solidarity. 

“Have a seat,” Dougal said quietly. Ian did as asked, glancing at Murtagh, who gave him a reassuring nod. Dougal went on, “Ye ken why ye’re here, Ian, and ye ken what we suspect. This is yer chance tae tell us yer side of things.”

“I ken how this looks,” Ian started. “But I want tae say up front, that I didna rat, and I wouldna ever. I am all in, just as I told ye before we went to kill Gordon.”

He sighed deeply and went on. “Dunsaney went tae see Jenny a couple days ago. She offered tae pay off a bunch of our debts and put Jenny and the kids in witness protection if she gave up information on the club. Jenny refused and threw her out of the house. I didna find out about this until today, or I would have warned ye.

“Last night the Feds came to tae the house. They threatened tae arrest me if we didna cooperate, so we went wi’ them. They took us to a facility in Stockton, separated me and Jenny, and took the kids. Dunsaney tried tae get me tae rat and when I wouldna, they paid a bunch of our debts tae make ye think I ratted. She told me that was her plan.

“They finally let me see Jenny, and then Dunsaney tried tae get both of us tae rat again. Neither of us did. They finally let us go. Ye have tae see this was all part of their plan. They wanted tae make ye think that we turned on ye. But we didna, we wouldna.”

Angus slipped into the room toward the end of Ian’s story. When he finished, the room was quiet. Ian’s hands were on the table, gripped around each other as if holding his own hand for support. Jamie nervously tapped his fingers against his thigh. Finally, Dougal spoke. “I hear truth in what yer sayin’ tae me. I move we vote tae dismiss this matter.”

“Second,” Murtagh chimed in.

“All in favor?” Dougal asked.

Several “Ayes,” sounded around the table.

“Opposed?”

The room was silent.

“Motion passes!” Dougal banged the gavel against the table and stood, walking over to Ian and embracing him. “Aye, laddie, I kent ye never would do that tae us.”

All the men, save one, took Dougal’s cue, patting Ian on the back and offering apologies and warm words to him. Jamie glanced at Angus, who was still sitting at the table, staring straight ahead, ignoring the rest of the men.

“Come on,” Jamie said above the din. “Let’s go celebrate.”

They all filed out of the room. Fergus went to the bar and poured beers for everyone. Jamie grabbed one and looked around the room, realizing that Angus and Dougal were still in the other room. He sipped his beer and watched the door curiously. 

It was at least five minutes before the two emerged; their faces were grim until they reached the rest of the men, and then they both broke out into too-eager smiles. Jamie’s heart sank. Something wasn’t right; he could feel it in his gut. Dougal and Angus had something up their sleeves, and Jamie knew, deep down, that the matter with Ian was not settled at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but after this, there's only two more chapters left in this first arc, so you can bet things are about to get crazy!


	13. Worst-Case Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know the ATF has been setting him up to look like a rat. But that isn’t the case. He’s not working for them. They had wires on him, but they weren’t to his knowledge; they were planted. The witness is somebody that lives in the building where Gordon got killed. That’s who ratted on Rupert.” John paused, waiting for a response.

[ ](https://ibb.co/YRq7nT2)

Jamie was already up and getting dressed when Claire woke. She rolled over and smiled at him sleepily. "Good morning."

"Mornin' darlin'," Jamie said as he leaned over to kiss her on her cheek, still creased by her pillowcase.

She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. "Come back to bed."

"I wish I could, but I have tae meet the guys at the clubhouse. We've got a meeting at nine."

"Mmmmmm, I suppose I need to get to work, too. There's a certain baby boy who has to get ready to come home today."

Jamie's face broke into a wide grin. "I canna wait tae finally bust him out of that place, no offense." He winked awkwardly and Claire dissolved in giggles. "Yer coming tae the party tonight, right?"

"Of course," she replied, but her face fell quickly after she spoke.

Jamie sat down on the side of the bed. He brushed a stray piece of Claire's hair away from her face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just...we need to think about what we’re doing. It's not just us anymore."

Jamie sighed and tapped his leg with his fingers nervously, “Ye’re really gonna force us to have this conversation, aren't ye? Ye ken the one upside of Laoghaire was that she was usually too wasted tae talk about relationship stuff.”

Claire's face lost all traces of the happiness it held moments before. “Well, I’m painfully sober," she said curtly.

“I can see that," Jamie said, attempting his most charming smile. When her somber face didn't change, he sighed. "I'm no’ getting o’ of this, am I?”

“No."

Jamie paused, considering how to say what he needed to. Finally, he took her hand in his and said softly, “Back then, when we were together before, that was crazy. That ‘I gotta be wi' ye every minute or I’m gonna kill myself' kind of crazy.’”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I know. I was there."

"Claire, the way I feel about ye hasna changed, but I canna deal wi' it being the way it was before. We gotta figure a new way." He pulled her hand go his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "But I’m no’ trying to avoid what we have. We just gotta take a minute to ken how tae do it right.”

“Okay...you can have a minute,” Claire replied, the tenderness slipping back into her voice. Jamie leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to hers, a promise to get things right this time.

***

"Our retainer wi' Ned Gowan is going tae be used up by the end of the week," Dougal told the men at the table. "If Rupert's charges stick, we're going to need cash fast."

Jamie leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the table. "We've been short cash fer weeks now. We're pretty much out of options."

Dougal looked around the table and sighed. "We've got one more. Call it a Hail Mary. Grant wants guns and since we dinna have any to sell, we'll have tae sell him our security surplus."

Grumbles and protests erupted around the table. Dougal banged his gavel on the table until the chatter quieted down.

"Are ye crazy?" Jamie asked. "We canna sell them the only weapons we have left!"

Dougal was clearly not in the mood for arguments. "It's a good will gesture. After we sell them our surplus, Grant will place a big order for when we have guns tae sell again, and he'll pay us half in advance."

"That leaves us nothing to protect ourselves!" Jamie growled.

Dougal leaned towards Jamie and pointed his finger emphatically. "We are out of ideas, Jamie. We need tae jump on this deal or we'll lose it."

Jamie shook his head. "No. It's too risky with the ATF still sniffing around us "

Dougal grinned like a cat who'd got cream for its supper. "We do two drop locations; we pick up the money at one and drop the guns at the other. That way, there's no proof of cash for guns."

"Why would the ATF still be trailing us, anyway?" Ian chimed in.

Dougal gave him a strange look. "Maybe they're pissed ye didna turn." Then, getting back to the task at hand, "Ian, ye'll go wi' Angus to the money drop; Jamie and I will drop the guns. I'll set it up. Be ready when I call ye. Are we all clear?"

A reluctant chorus of "Ayes," sealed the deal and the men quietly left the room.

Ian followed Jamie to one of the bedrooms. Jamie stood on the bed and removed a ceiling panel as Ian crawled under the bed to retrieve two large, heavy duty canvas bags. Jamie began pulling the guns down from inside their hiding place in the ceiling and handing them to Ian.

“Ye think this is a bad idea?” Ian asked.

"Aye, I do," Jamie replied shortly.

“Dougal made that deal with Grant tae make sure the war didna reach Leoch," Ian reminded him.

Jamie shook his head. “It’s bigger than that now."

"What does that mean?" Ian asked, giving Jamie a confused look.

Jamie shook his head. “Let’s just get this done.”

Ian caught Jamie’s arm before he reached up to grab another gun. “Jamie, if ye think I’m walkin’ intae somethin’...”

Jamie stepped down from the bed and leaned against the wall. "Look, in the last few months, our warehouse was blown up, Grant tried tae kill Dougal, and now Rupert’s in jail. ATF is still tryin’ tae build a RICO case against us. How much longer is this club goin’ tae last?”

Ian looked away as if he didn’t want to face the realities, but Jamie went on, “We’re better than this. My old man saw this nightmare comin’. I didna ken it, but he was smart, Ian. He had ideas about where the club should go, good ideas, legitimate ways to earn. He kent that SAMCWRO has tae change tae survive.”

Ian was silent for a moment, his head in his hands. Finally, he looked up and told Jamie, “Dougal will never walk away from runnin’ guns.”

Jamie climbed back on the bed and started pulling the last of the guns out. “I ken," he said scornfully, "He’s made that verra clear.”

“Well,” Ian said thoughtfully, “With Dougal’s arthritis, he willna be able tae turn a throttle in a few years, and ye'll be at the head o’ the table.”

Jamie gave his friend a half smile. “What about Rupert and Angus? Ye think I can move them in a new direction? Two immovable objects.”

“Aye,” Ian said, “But yer an irresistible force. Stranger things have happened.”

As Ian stuffed the last of the guns into the bags, Fergus poked his head in the door. “Hey Ian,” he said. “Jenny’s here.”

“Thank ye. I’ll be right out.”

Jamie chuckled and took both bags from Ian. “It’s probably fer the best if ye dinna greet her with two bags of guns in yer hands."

Ian laughed and nodded, turning to leave the room. “Hey, wait,” Jamie called after him, “Are ye comin’ tae Willie’s homecoming part tonight?”

“Aye,” Ian nodded. “I wouldna miss it. I’ll go talk tae Jenny about it now.”

“Thanks, _a charaid_ , it means a lot tae me that ye’ll be there.”

***

Claire finished eating her lunch in a small cafe across the street from the hospital. She walked outside into the warm afternoon air and put her sunglasses on. She turned to head back to the hospital and suddenly came face to face with Laoghaire.

“You lookin’ for me?” Claire asked curiously, looking around.

“Yeah,” Laogharie replied, approaching her. “I need tae ask ye a question.”

“Alright,” Claire said nervously. “Go ahead.”

“Are ye with Jamie?”

Even though she was expecting the question, Claire felt as if she had the wind knocked out of her. “I...I... don’t know how to answer that question.”

Laoghaire sneered. “It’s a simple question, Claire. Do ye love him?”

“You know what Laoghaire,” Claire said, backing away, “I’m not comfortable having this conversation with you.”

Laoghaire stepped closer. “I don’t give a shit what ye’re comfortable wi’. Now, I’ve seen ye over a half a dozen time in the last few days, and ye didna even bother tae mention that ye’re sleepin’ wi’ my husband?”

Tears of anger stung behind Claire’s eyes. “Ex-husband,” she spat out.

“There’s two more months before that’s official, Claire." Laoghaire's voice was getting louder and louder, making Claire more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s _my_ husband and Willie is _our_ son.”

“You need to check into your sober living facility Laoghaire, get some more sober time under your belt. If you and Jamie are meant to be together, he’ll be there when you get out,” Claire told her through clenched teeth.

“And where will ye be?” Laoghaire asked.

“I have to get back to work,” Claire said, turning and walking way.

“She’ll never let ye be wi’ him, ye ken,” Laoghaire called after her. “Ellen _hates_ ye. She’ll do anything she can tae keep ye two apart. Ye may as well quit while ye’re still ahead. Or alive, fer that matter. Dinna ever forget what she did tae me when I was in that hospital two months ago, Claire.”

Claire took a deep breath and kept walking, knitting her hands together so nobody could see how hard they were trembling.

***

Several hours later, Dougal, Ian, Jamie, and Rupert were gathered around the picnic tables set up outside the Clubhouse. Neither the gun drop nor the money pick up had gone well; both pairs of men had been ambushed by Sandringham's men. Though no one had been hurt, the guns and money were long gone.

Ian sat on the top of one of the picnic tables. “Was this a mistake or was Sandringham tryin’ tae send a message?”

“I dinna ken,” Dougal replied.

“We are now living in the worst case scenario,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “Sandringham wants us dead; Grant won’t trust us. We’ll lose our customer base and gain two huge beefs.”

Ian chuckled sardonically. “And here we are, broke wi’ no guns.”

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang then, and he stepped away from the others. “Hey Ma, is it time?” he answered.

“Aye," she replied cheerfully. "Can ye pick up Laoghaire on yer way?”

Jamie sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up the phone and walked back over to where the men were sitting. “I gotta go pick up my kid.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

Dougal nodded, “We need somethin’ good right now. Go get him.”

“All right. I’ll see ye at the house later.”

***

Claire walked down the hospital corridor next to Ellen, with baby Willie in her arms.“You know,” Claire said in a low tone, “This might be your most insidious move yet.”

Ellen snickered. “Ye’ll have tae be more specific.”

“Convincing Laoghaire that she might have a chance of winning back Jamie and her family. That’s a lot of false hope to lay on a recovering addict, Ellen.”

“I dinna ken where ye’re goin’ with this, Claire,” Ellen answered innocently, “But I was tryin’ tae help Laoghaire. I wanted tae encourage her in her efforts tae change.”

“Yes, Ellen, you are the embodiment of encouragement,” Claire deadpanned.

Just then, Jamie and Laogahire rounded the corner from the elevators. “Hey,” Jamie said, a huge grin on his face. “Hey little man,” he said to Willie as Claire passed him over, “We’re bustin’ ye o’ of this place. Finally!”

He glanced at Claire. “Thanks doc,” he said nonchalantly, as if he were talking to a helpful stranger.

His tone stabbed Claire in the heart, and she nodded, fighting back tears. Laoghaire gave her a sickening grin. “Appreciate it,” she said as she tickled Willie’s belly.

“All right,” Ellen chimed in. “Let’s get this family home.”

***

Claire took a deep breath and walked up the steps of Jamie’s stoop. She’s been invited, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she were unwelcome after the scene at the hospital. Cautiously, she turned the doorknob and stepped into the house.”

The living room was full of Jamie’s friends and family; voices and laughter filled the air. Ian noticed her walking in and instantly handed her a beer. She thanked him with a nod and he smiled at her warmly. She leaned against the wall casually, looking around the room for Jamie. Nearby, Ellen held Willie in her arms as Dougal looked at him. He smiled and rubbed his finger over the boy’s cheek. “He’s just perfect. What do ye think, Grandma, is he ready for his first dram?” Everybody laughed as Dougal jokingly moved his glass toward Willie. “Come on, lad. It’s just ye and yer grandda, aye?”

Memories of Claire’s life with Jamie’s family flooded her mind. It had always been like this growing up; there was always a party, a barbecue, an impromptu dinner. Everybody would show up, donating cases of beer, bottles of whisky, platters of cheese and crackers. The adults would drink and laugh while the kids would sneak away, sometimes with a beer to share amongst them, playing their own games with no adult supervision to speak of.

When they’d been older, she and Jamie would sneak away by themselves. They’d lock the door to his room and make love quietly, the danger of getting caught both a fear and a bit of turn on. She felt her body heating at the memories and tried to focus on the scene before her. The recollections helped her relax, and she felt a little bit at home.

Then, Laoghaire brushed past her. Claire stiffened as she watched her walk over to Murtagh and Ian. She’d taken Claire’s place after Claire left, and this was _her_ home, _her_ family now. Claire took a long gulp of her beer. _Well fuck that_ , she thought. _I was here first. They’re **my** family too, and Jamie is **mine** now._

Jamie was sitting in an easy chair nearby. She casually walked over and sat on the arm of the chair, placing her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Ye alright?” Jamie asked her quietly.

She nodded and then, spontaneously, reached her head down and kissed him. When she pulled away, Laoghaire was glaring at her. Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his seat and leaned forward. “I’ll be right back,” he told everyone nearby. He stood and walked past Claire. “Can I talk to ye?”

She stood and followed him, wondering what the hell she had done wrong. “What’s the matter?” she asked when they reached Willie’s room.

“Nothin’,” he replied, setting his beer down on the dresser and walking toward Claire. “Look, Laoghaire is only a heartbeat sober. I dinna want tae do anything tae set her off.”

He took her hands in his, but she jerked them away. “Because she’s still in love with you?”

“No... yes...no,” Jamie stuttered. “I’m just saying we should take it easy wi’ whatever this is,” he gestured with his finger, pointing it back and forth between the two of them, “around her, ye ken?”

Anger boiled within Claire. “Whatever this is?” she asked as she straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin out at him.

“Ye ken what I mean, Claire.”

“No, I don’t.”

She moved to leave the room, but Jamie grabbed her by the arm. “Claire,” he pleaded.

“No!” she yelled, turning around and slapping him in the face. He put his hand to his cheek and stepped back, his mouth open wide in astonishment.

Just as quickly as her anger had risen, it was replaced with shame. She turned around and stalked out of the room. Ignoring the staring partygoers, she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

***

Jamie followed Claire as she stormed out and stood, stunned, as the door slammed in his face. The sting of her hand was still hot on his cheek. Fergus approached him with a questioning look, and Jamie turned to him. “Will ye follow Claire, please? Make sure she gets home ok.” Fergus nodded and walked out the door.

Ian approached him with an amused grin on his face. “What happened?”

Jamie shook his head. “I dinna ken.”

Ian chuckled. “Sorry.”

His best friend’s laugh was contagious, and Jamie couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, ye sound like ye are.”

Just then, Jenny joined them. She put her arms around Ian’s waist, and he kissed the top of her head. “We gotta go,” she told him. “The kids need tae get tae bed.”

“Thanks for comin’” Jamie said.

Jenny gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad Willie’s home.” She reached out and embraced him.

“Come on kids, let’s go,” Ian called.

“I’ll walk ye tae yer cars,” Jamie offered.

He followed them outside, taking a deep breath of the warm night air. The couple had arrived in separate cars, and Jenny buckled the kids into her car and got in the front seat. Jamie saw Angus come out of the house; he gave Jamie a nod before getting on his bike and riding away.

Ian walked toward his truck, but Jenny called to him, “Wait! Are ye goin’ straight home?” He turned around and smiled. “Aye. Why?”

Jenny leaned out of the car window. “I want tae come back and help Ellen clean up.”

“Why don’t ye just stay, then?” Ian asked, walking back toward Jenny’s car. “I can take the kids home and put ‘em tae bed.”

“Ye sure?” Jenny asked.

“Of course.”

Jenny got out of the car and gave Ian a kiss. “Thanks. Do ye have any cash? Ellen mentioned she needed powder for the dishwasher. I’ll just pop out and get some first.” Ian reached in his pocket and handed her a few bills. They kissed again and Jenny told him, “I love ye.”

“I love ye too.”

Ian got in Jenny’s car and waved goodbye to Jamie. Jenny hoisted herself into Ian’s truck. “Bye guys!” Jamie called. “Thank ye again for coming.” They both drove away, and Jamie couldn’t help but smile. It seemed that Ian and Jenny were doing much better; perhaps Jenny had found some peace with the club, finally. He walked back toward the house but paused when he heard another car pull up.

Turning, he saw John Grey getting out of his car, hustling toward the house. “What’s going on?” Jamie asked.

“You better get Dougal out here. I got information you’re both going to want to hear.”

Jamie nodded and opened the front door. “Dougal!” he called. “I need ye out here fer a second.” He walked back to Grey and gave him a questioning look. Grey shook his head and gestured toward the door.

Just then, Dougal came outside and joined them. “Grey, what was so important ye couldna wait til tomorrow?” Dougal asked.

“It’s about Ian.”

“What about Ian?” Jamie asked.

“I know the ATF has been setting him up to look like a rat. But that isn’t the case. He’s not working for them. They had wires on him, but they weren’t to his knowledge; they were planted. The witness is somebody that lives in the building where Gordon got killed. That’s who ratted on Rupert.” John paused, waiting for a response.

Even in the pale glow of the porchlight, Jamie could see Dougal’s face go white. “How do ye ken this?” Dougal managed to choke out.

“Jack Randall,” Grey answered. “He’s been privy to all of it. I just thought you should know; in case you were having doubts about loyalty and such.”

Jamie shook his head. “Thank ye for telling us, John. We already settled that matter, but we appreciate the information.”

“I’ve interrupted your party long enough now,” Grey said. “I’m real glad your boy came home, Jamie. Good night.”

Jamie turned to Dougal. “Why do ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost. This is good news, is it no’?”

“Yeah,” Dougal said, clapping Jamie on the shoulder. “It’s great...Listen, I have tae make a phone call. Ye go on in and I’ll join ye shortly.”

“Alright,” Jamie replied. He gave Dougal a curious look and walked back into the house. Ellen greeted him and handed Willie off to him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, Ma. Everything’s great.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going tae put this one down in his crib, aye? Then I’ll join the party again.”

Jamie brought his sleeping baby into the nursery and changed his diaper, just like Claire had taught him at the hospital. He rewrapped the swaddle, unsure if he was doing it right, but he figured it was a close enough approximation. Snuggling the boy close to his chest, he sat down and rocked him, singing off key under his breath. He stayed that way for a while, almost nodding off himself. Finally, he got up and laid Willie gently in the crib.

As he walked back into the living room, John Grey burst through the front door. “Jamie, Murtagh, Dougal! Ye have tae follow me right now.” The room grew quiet and the three men he’d called out looked at each other in confusion. “Now!” Grey bellowed.

Jamie had never heard John Grey speak like that in his entire life. The three men hurried to the door. Dougal and Murtagh ran out first, but Jamie put a hand on John’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s Jenny,” John replied quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will the last chapter of this first story arc (coinciding with the end of Season 1 of SOA). I will take a small break after next week's chapter before starting in on Arc 2.


	14. The Revelator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She leaned forward in her seat, whispering, “We got away with murder. What does that make me?”
> 
> “A survivor,” Jamie told her, nodding his head and smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your awesome comments and for loving this story!!!
> 
> This chapter marks the end of season 1 of Sons of Anarchy, so I will be taking a wee break (a couple weeks) before resuming with the next part. Expect me to resume again in mid-late October :)

[ ](https://ibb.co/YRq7nT2)

Jamie lay in bed in the wee hours of the morning, staring at the ceiling. He was fairly certain he hadn’t slept at all, the images from the previous night kept playing in his head on a loop.

_Jamie, Dougal, and Murtagh had already arrived when Ian pulled up in Jenny’s car. As the lights of the emergency vehicles flashed over and over, they watched as Jenny’s lifeless body was pulled from Ian’s truck, her face half blown away, coated in blood._

_“Jenny! Jenny! Jenny!” Ian cried as he ran from his car, ripping through the yellow tape around the scene._

_The officers tried to stop him, but Dougal yelled, “It’s ok! Let him in!”_

_Ian fell to his knees next to Jenny’s body, clutching at her face. His hands were bloodied in seconds as he sobbed, “No baby. No.”_

_Jamie stood next to Murtagh, neither of them trying to hide the tears running down their faces. Dougal put both hands up to his face, and wiped at it, as if trying to erase the images before him. He walked away as Angus and Fergus showed up. Ian’s sobs permeated the air._

_John walked over to Dougal then and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘What do we ken?” Dougal asked._

_“Not much,” John replied. “A guy walking his dog saw a black SUV roll up on the truck. Shot her through the back window.”_

_“Did they see who it was?”_

_“No. They couldn’t say.” John cast his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. “Unless Jenny was leading some kind of double life, I’m thinking this brutality was meant for Ian. Some scumbag made a tragic mistake.”_

_“Yeah, I guess that’s a pretty fair guess,” Dougal replied._

_Ian was still bent over Jenny, his face bloodied as he kissed her, still moaning, “No, baby.” Jamie couldn’t take it any longer; he walked over, crouched down, and pulled Ian up._

_"Come on,” he said. “It’s time to go.” He pulled his distraught friend to his chest, holding him up as he’d wept. Fergus walked over and stood on the other side of him, helping Jamie support the large man. As they walked away with him, Jamie noticed Dougal watching them curiously and squinted his eyes at his stepfather, wondering what was going through his head._

_Fergus took Ian home, promising to stay with him the whole night so that Jamie could get back to his family. When Jamie walked in his front door, Laoghaire and Ellen were waiting anxiously; Ellen hurried over to him and put her arms around him. “I am so sorry, baby,” she’d cooed in his ear as he embraced her. “How’s Ian?” she asked._

_He didn’t answer but held onto her, letting his mother’s comforting arms keep him safe for a few moments. Eventually, he pulled away. “Ye should go home, Ma.”_

_“What about the baby?” she asked._

_“I can take care of my son, Ma.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“It’s time for me to do this.”_

_She nodded. “Ok, baby. Ok.”_

_He gave Laoghaire a small smile over Ellen’s shoulder and then turned away, walking to Willie’s room. Inside, he hovered over the crib, his hand on Willie’s chest. The little boy sighed deeply in his sleep, and Jamie detected a small smile on his lips. Jamie sniffled, smiling a bit himself, and then sat down in the rocking chair. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come._

_Then, Laoghaire came in. She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. She kissed him and he responded greedily, craving the comfort of being close to someone. But as Laoghaire moved to unbuckle his belt, he pushed her hand away. “No,” he said softly. “Not like this.” She left reluctantly and Jamie, torn apart by grief and exhaustion, collapsed on the bed only to stare at the ceiling the entire night.  
_

He got out of bed and showered, trying to wash away the previous night: his treatment of Claire, his failure to protect Jenny, and the endless sound of Ian’s sobs as he had cried over his dead wife. He scrubbed and scoured his skin, but nothing could take away the deep unsettled feeling in his stomach.

After checking that Laoghaire would stay with William, he got on his bike to find Ian. Finding his house empty, Jamie got on the highway and rode the seventy-five miles North to his mother’s house.

On the way, he had time to think, let his brain start to process all the horrible snippets of memories that floated in his brain. _The seemingly random drive by; the look on Dougal’s face when John told them what he’d learned about Ian; Angus leaving early; the phone call Dougal had made._ But the thought that kept flashing the brightest and loudest alarm in his head was that Ian and Jenny had switched vehicles at the last second. _Did Angus leave before or after that?_ Jamie couldn’t recall.

Would Dougal really have plotted a hit on Ian without a club vote? The act was akin to treason; the only thing worse than killing one of your own without consent by a unanimous vote was ratting on your fellow club members, both punishable by death. What information could Dougal possibly have thought he had on Ian that would compel him to make such an egregious calculation?

With so much to process, the trip felt like it went by quickly. He was soon pulling into Anna’s driveway, turning off the bike, and removing his helmet. He walked in the front door without knocking and found that the house was already full of middle-aged women, setting out casseroles and murmuring quietly to one another. Jamie spotted Anna in the kitchen and strode across the room to her. Without a word, he embraced her, squeezing her tightly, seeking comfort as much as he gave it. He and Anna had their differences over the years, but she had been an important figure in his childhood and had taken care of Jamie after his father died, when nobody else seemed able to.

Finally pulling away, he asked, “Where is he?”

“Out in the back with the kids,” she answered. Jamie moved toward the back door, but Anna stopped him. “Thank you, Jamie, for being here,” she said quietly before releasing him. Jamie nodded and walked out of the door.

Ian sat on one of the small chairs of a children’s picnic table with his head in his hands. His children, Jamie and Maggie, sat listlessly on the swing set. Jamie approached Ian and put a hand on his shoulder. Ian started and turned around. When he saw it was Jamie, he stood slowly, and Jamie pulled him in. The two men embraced as Ian sobbed against his best friend’s shoulder.

When they parted, Jamie took a chair next to Ian, his long legs scrunched up in the ridiculously small seat. “How they doin’?” he asked, nodding toward the kids.

“She’s been cryin’ all morning,” Ian answered gloomily. “Jamie still doesna get it, though. He’s too young. He’s never even had so much as a pet die.”

Jamie shook his head sadly. “Anything you need…”

“I know,” Ian replied.

“Want me to stick around?” Jamie asked.

“No,” Ian replied, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m ok.” He stared ahead blankly for a long while; Jamie sat silently with him, allowing him the space he needed to settle his mind. Finally, Ian shook his head and said, “She knew...She knew I was goin’ tae bring somethin’ like this to our front door.”

Jamie reached out a hand and placed it on Ian’s shoulder. “Ian, ye didna bring this.”

“Some banger shot my wife,” he hissed, shrugging Jamie’s hand away. “I got nothin’ tae do wi’ that?” He shook his head again and stood, striding across the lawn to the children. He patted Maggie’s head and then went behind Jamie, pulling his swing back before letting it go and pushing him purposefully.

Jamie watched for a while, tears dripping down his cheeks. Finally, he stood and quietly excused himself, walking out through the fence to avoid seeing Anna again. He put on his helmet solemnly and rode away

When he arrived back home, he found Laoghaire sitting on the floor in the living room surrounded by baby books while Willie screamed in his bedroom. “Hey,” Laoghaire said, barely looking up.

“Is he ok?”

“I can’t get him to stop crying,” Laoghaire said, panic in her eyes. “I tried everything. He’s fed, he’s dry…”

“Where’s Ellen?” Jamie asked.

“On her way.”

Jamie turned and walked to Willie’s room. He scooped him up, cooing, “Hey, hey, hey. C’mon wee laddie.” He rested Willie against his chest, with his head on Jamie’s shoulder, instinctively bouncing him up and down and patting his back. “What’re ye fashin’ about, huh?” William began to quiet, his cries turning into murmurs as Jamie brought him to the rocking chair. He grabbed the pacifier on the nightstand and gently popped it in Willie’s mouth. “Ye’re alright, little dude.”

Laoghaire appeared in the doorway, smiling at them. Jamie looked up and he returned the gesture. Laoghaire held up the book and made a sound in the back of her throat. “I canna find the chapter in this book about ex-junkie moms.”

“I dinna think yer pages have been written yet,” Jamie answered.

Laoghaire sighed and put the book back on the bookshelf. She moved closer to Jamie, leaning on the crib. “About what happened last night…”

“It was a hard night, Laoghaire,” Jamie said curtly.

She leaned her head to the side and looked at him curiously. “Is that all it was?” She walked over and sat on the ottoman next to Jamie and put her hand on his leg. “I want this, Jamie.”

“He’s yer son, Laoghaire. I willna keep him from ye.”

“No, not just him,” she said breathily.

Jamie gently nudged her hand away. “We’ve done our dance.”

“Never like this,” she replied, desperation growing in her voice, “With him. It could be different.”

Jamie squinted his eyes at her and shook his head. “We’ve been through way too much shite.”

“I just want another chance,” she whispered as a tear rolled down her face. “This wee bairn deserves that at least.”

“I dinna ken, Laoghaire. We both need time. Ye need tae go tae yer sober living house. Then let’s see.”

She smiled and grabbed his free hand. “Ok, I will. I’m gonna make this work, Jamie.”

He gave her a small smile and then focused on Willie, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

***

Early that afternoon, the men gathered around the table at the clubhouse. Everybody was present except Ian, which was to be expected. “How is he?” Dougal asked Jamie.

Jamie shook his head. “I dinna ken.”

“How do ye think he is?” Murtagh chimed in from the other end of the table. The rest of the men put their heads down, avoiding eye contact with each other.

“There’s no viewing,” Jamie told them. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Dougal looked around the room. “Let’s get some o’ the other clubs down here for this. I want a show o’ support.”

“Hayes is already in town,” Fergus said. “I’ll start making some other calls.”

Dougal leaned forward with his arms on the table and sat silently for a moment before saying, “I gotta take responsibility for this.” Jamie’s head whipped in Dougal’s direction. “I was the one who pushed for the deal with Grant. I kent there would be blowback from Sandringham, but I never imagined this.”

“We all voted yes on that deal,” Angus reminded him. “Nobody saw this comin’.”

“Yeah but it happened,” Murtagh growled, his temper rising. “So how do we handle it?”

“Sandringham _will_ be dealt with, Murtagh. But right now, we have tae just walk through this and be there for Ian,” Dougal answered calmly.

“We help Ian by settling the score,” Murtagh retorted, slamming his fist on the table. “We track down Sandringham and we put a bullet in that arsehole’s head.” Dougal glanced at Jamie, which only enraged Murtagh more. “What are ye looking at him for? I’m the one talkin’ to ye.”

Dougal leaned back in his chair. “I ken ye’re hurtin’, _a charaidh_ , and ye think yer’re tryin’ tae help, but…”

“Dinna ye dare tell me what I’m thinkin’,” Murtagh shot back. “If this happened in yer family, there’d have been six charters halfway to Oakland by now.”

“This did happen in my family,” Dougal said emphatically.

“No, it didn’t!” Murtagh shouted. “Sandringham’s men came gunnin’ fer _my_ son and they killed _my_ daughter-in-law. You got that, Dougal? You got that kind o’ hole in _yer_ family?” He pushed his chair back violently and stood up, walking out of the room with one last glare at each man around the table.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Jamie said, standing up and following.

He walked outside into the bright sunshine and looked around the parking lot. Murtagh already had his helmet on and was close to taking off, so Jamie jogged over, blocking his way. “Where do ye think ye’re goin’?” Murtagh sighed and shook his head. Jamie went on, “Look man, nobody wants tae even this out more than me. But we need tae bury Jenny and catch our breath first. Then, we’ll do what needs done.”

“Yeah,” Murtagh said sarcastically, starting the motorcycle, “Let’s do that, huh?” He rode away abruptly, practically rolling over Jamie’s feet in the process.

Jamie looked around the parking lot and saw Half-Sack working on some clean up. “Hey Prospect,” Jamie called, “Go keep an eye on the old man, aye?”

“Where’s he goin’?” Half-Sack asked.

“I dinna ken. That’s why ye’re gonna follow him.”

“Right,” Half-Sack said with a nod as he ran off to find a bike to take.

Jamie got on his own bike and sped off. He had to see Claire and set things right with her. Something about the weight of the events of the last twenty-four hours made him feel like it was now or never.

When he arrived, he looked in all the typical places where he usually found her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Jamie sighed and sat down on a bench in the hallway, hoping to catch her as soon as possible. Soon enough, he saw her coming down the hallway with two other doctors. Jamie stood, moving to her without thought. “Can I have a minute?” he asked.

Claire nodded. “Yeah sure.”

She led him into a small empty waiting room and closed the door behind them. They sat down in the uncomfortable chairs on either side of a corner table. “I heard about what happened to Jenny,” Claire said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie was leaning forward in his seat with his arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him. “Thanks,” he answered, hanging his head. There was nothing more he wanted to do than reach out and touch her, feel her warm hand wrap around his. But he had to set things right first. No more games.

“Anybody know what happened?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head, still looking down. “No.” He sighed and sat up straighter, finally looking her in the eyes. “I ken ye’re busy. I just wanted tae make sure ye were alright.”

“I appreciate that,” Claire answered. Her eyes were starting to fill with tears. “I’m sorry about last night. I - …”

Jamie shook his head. “No, dinna do that. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, leaning forward and placing her hands over his. “Nothing is okay,” she said with a sudden sob. Jamie flipped their hands around and squeezed hers, urging her on. “These last few weeks...I tried to follow your lead. You know, find some kind of compartment to put all of this stuff in, but I just...I can’t. I don’t...sleep. And I’m more scared than I ever was. I’m scared of getting caught; I’m scared of not getting caught.” She leaned forward in her seat, whispering, “We got away with murder. What does that make me?”

“A survivor,” Jamie told her, nodding his head and smiling.

They both leaned in closer to each other, their foreheads practically touching. Claire pulled their hands up and kissed his knuckles. “You’re a good man, Jamie. And you have a big heart. I believe you try to do as much good as you can, but you live a life I don’t think I’ll ever really understand.” She moved back a little and looked down at the floor again. “I called Chicago Presbyterian today, and they said they’d take me back. I think it’s the best choice.”

Jamie yanked his hands from her grip and sat back in his seat. He felt panic rise in his chest and tears stinging the back of his eyes. “Dinna ye ever get tired of all the running, Claire?”

“I’m not running,” she spat back, wrinkling her nose at him. “I’m being realistic, Jamie.”

Jamie stood up and started pacing the room, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg. “Ye can call it whatever ye want, Claire. But yer life is a series of hit-and-runs.” His voice rose as his pace increased. “The minute someone makes ye feel uncomfortable, tests yer loyalty, ye pack yer bags and hit the road. Well, I guess ye got what ye wanted from me, right?” He pointed at her in accusation. “Ye used me tae do yer dirty work.”

“That is _not_ fair,” she yelled back, standing up to face him.

“Not fair?” He shook his head and clenched his fists, resisting the urge to throw a chair into the window. He moved closer to Claire and lowered his voice, speaking in a measured tone that sounded anything but calm. “Do ye ken how many women I’ve slept with over the last ten years?”

“Don’t do th -.”

“Hundreds,” he spat out, right in her face. “Maybe more; I dinna ken. I barely see their faces. I married Laoghaire because I was lonely. I was tired of feeling endlessly disconnected from everything. But that was just a sad time-out.” He paused catching his breath with a sob. “Because when I’m inside a woman, there’s only one face I see. When ye came home it felt like my past was comin’ back around tae give me another shot and do this different. Better. And now that chance is runnin’ back tae Chicago.”

Claire stared at him, tears flowing freely but unable to speak. Jamie put his hands on the back of her neck and pulled her in, kissing her passionately, almost violently. Then he pulled away, almost as quickly, and pushed himself away from her, as if forcing himself to part with her. “Ye take care, Doc,” he said, and then he stormed out of the room.

***

Jamie got back to the clubhouse and saw Dougal, Fergus, and Angus walking out to the parking lot as Ned Gowan got out of his car. He threw his kickstand down and jogged over to join them. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to give you this news in person,” the old lawyer said solemnly. “The U.S. Attorney is releasing the details on the witness to Fletcher Gordon’s murder at five o’clock. At 5:01, ATF is presenting their case against Ian Murray for Gordon’s murder. They’ll bring him in for a lineup and with what the prosecution’s shared, he probably won’t be going back home.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jamie grumbled.

“What do we know?” Dougal asked.

“There’s an eyewitness, probably a resident,” Ned went on. “He’s in witness protection.”

“Ian buries his wife tomorrow,” Dougal said quietly.

Ned nodded his head. “I’ll drag my feet, make sure they don’t bring him in too early. Sorry, Dougal. There wasn’t anything else I could do.”

“Thanks,” Dougal said. Ned turned to get back in his car while all the rest of the men walked back to the garage.

“Get out o’ here,” Angus said to the mechanics that were working inside while Jamie and Fergus closed the overhead doors.

The men gathered in a small circle. “Their whole case against Rupert and Ian is that witness,” Dougal said, cutting straight to the chase. “Without him, they got nothin’.”

“So, we gotta get to him,” Angus said, nodding.

“Kill him?” Fergus asked.

Angus rolled his eyes. “He’s a rat. Rats deserve tae die. End of story.” Fergus shook his head but kept his mouth shut.

“Wit pro means a safe house,” Jamie said. “They’ll have him under twenty-four-hour protection. It’s a dead end.”

Dougal leaned in, sticking his finger in Jamie’s face. “That canna be. If Ian goes tae prison again, what happens tae his kids? Ye think the state’s gonna give ‘em tae Murtagh or Anna?” He shook his head vehemently. “They’ll end up in the system.”

“Let’s not forget Rupert,” Angus reminded them. “He got ID’d because he had tae clean up after Ian’s mistake.”

Fergus rolled his eyes, but Jamie put a hand on his chest, warning him to keep his mouth shut. “We gotta do this before Ian’s funeral,” Jamie said. “Ian’s family canna take another hit.”

“Agreed,” Dougal replied. “I’ll call Sheriff Munro in San Joaquin. He’s been on our payroll fer years and I’d bet anything that the Feds have the sheriff’s department watching the safe house.” Then, he turned to Fergus. “Call Hayes. Tell him we got a job for him.”

“I’m on it,” Fergus replied, leaving immediately to make the call.

Just then, Jamie’s phone rang. He picked it up and stepped away from the rest of the guys. “Yeah?” he answered.

“Jamie, it’s Half-Sack. I ended up following Murtagh all the way to Oakland.”

“Oakland?” Jamie asked. “Shite. The old bastard’s gonna try tae kill Sandringham by himself. Keep an eye on him, Half-Sack. I’ll be there as quick as I can.” He hung up the phone and said to the rest of the guys, “I gotta go. Murtagh’s about tae do something colossally stupid.”

***

He arrived at the location Half-Sack had texted to him only to see Sandringham pulling up in his car at the same time. Jamie pulled up his bike next to Sandringham’s car and took his helmet off as Sandringham stepped out of the car. “We got a problem,” Sandringham told him. “Some old man from your club came up in my bar and held up some of my men, demanding to see me.”

“He wasna sent by the club, Duke. I’m just here tae collect him,” Jamie said, holding up his hands in a plea of innocence.

“Follow me,” Sandringham said, gesturing with his head toward the door of the bar.

They walked in to find Murtagh sitting in a booth with one of Sandringham’s men, a gun held to his head. Half-Sack sat on the other side of Murtagh. “Crazy old man,” Jamie mumbled under his breath.

Murtagh looked up and saw Jamie. “This doesna involve ye, Jamie. One of these arseholes killed Jenny, and I’m gonna make that right.”

‘What the hell is he talking about?” Sandringham asked.

Jamie looked from Sandringham to Murtagh and back to Sandringham. Finally, he whispered to Sandringham, “If I get him tae put down the revolver, do ye promise me we’ll walk out o’ here alive?”

Sandringham made a face as if considering his options. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah,” he conceded with a shrug.

Jamie approached the booth and Murtagh immediately pulled the gun away from the young man’s head. “No, no, no, no, no,” he said to Jamie, putting his hands out in front of him as if to stop Jamie’s approach.

“Put down the gun, ye old coot,” Jamie said.

“I’m no’ leavin’ til the arsehole that killed Jenny is dead,” Murtagh insisted.

Jamie sighed and glanced at Half-Sack, giving him the slightest nod he could manage. Half-Sack put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands as if he were ready to give up, but then quickly jabbed Murtagh in the side with his elbow. It caught Murtagh off guard just enough that Jamie was able to dive in and take the gun. “Shitehead!” Murtagh declared, punching Half-Sack in the arm.

Half-Sack scooted out of the booth and was quickly replaced by Sandringham. Jamie slid in on the other side and explained to him why Murtagh was there and what he suspected. Sandringham shook his head. “The noise we made during your gun sale with Grant yesterday is about how pissed off we are. But if we wanted your asses dead…”

Murtagh cut him off. “Last night, someone in a gangster SUV gunned down my daughter-in-law. Now that smells like revenge tae me.”

Jamie threw Murtagh a look before turning to Sandringham. “Someone went after one of my guys and killed his wife by mistake.”

‘Wasn’t us,” Sandringham said simply.

“Oh, and I’m supposed tae take yer word for it?” Murtagh scoffed. “Because ye’re such an _honorable_ man?”

“Shut up!” Jamie shouted at him before turning back to Sandringham. “Yer trouble with us. Did ye work that out o’ yer system or does this beef keep growin’?”

“Why do ye keep talking about beefs?” Murtagh cut in.

“Murtagh!” Jamie raised his voice even louder this time. “Let me handle this or I will kill ye myself.” Murtagh sat back in the booth rolling his eyes.

“Our business issues still need to be worked out,” Sandringham admitted. “But if my need to hurt SAMCWRO took me to Leoch and had me killing women, do you think we’d be sitting here talking right now? I’m telling you the truth. My men didn’t kill your daughter. Now I suggest you guys find your way back home quickly.” He slid out of the booth without waiting for a response.

***

Jamie’s next stop on his endless quest of atonement was the Leoch police station. He found John talking to another one of the officers. “Hey,” he greeted him, “Where are ye wi’ Jenny’s murderer?”

Grey shrugged his shoulders. “Nowhere.”

“No leads? No suspects?”

“No,” Grey said, turning to walk away from Jamie. “Sorry.”

As Grey left, Jack Randall walked into the room. “Come with me,” he said to Jamie, gesturing toward the security door leading to the cells.

Randall led him into one of the cells. “This will give us some privacy,”

“Fer what?” Jamie asked, following him in.

Randall sat down on the narrow bench. “I know how close you and Ian are. I remember you and him in high school. You were inseparable. That’s why I can’t keep this from you.” He took a deep breath before going on. “I knew Dunsaney was setting up Ian as a rat. She wired his truck. I think Dougal found that wire, thought Ian was working with the feds, and then tried to have him killed. Jenny was a mistake.”

“Why are ye tellin’ me this shite?” Jamie asked, drumming his fingers on his chest. “Do ye think I’ll give up Dougal?”

Randall stood and walked close to Jamie, looking him in the eye as he spoke. “We ended up on opposing teams, you and me. We don’t like each other all that much. But seeing an innocent woman gunned down.... two little kids with no mom? Man, I think that falls on the wrong side of the fence for both of us.”

Jamie didn’t respond and Randall quietly walked out. As soon as he was gone, Jamie angrily kicked the door of the cell. His mind reeled as he stalked out of the police station and got back on his bike. He drove to the garage and walked into the office. Ellen was sitting at the desk doing paperwork. “Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s no’ back yet. What’s the matter Jamie?”

“I got some information on Jenny,” he told her.

“What information?”

Jamie stared at his mother’s face. It was typically as difficult to read as Jamie’s but today he could see some of the cracks in the facade. Shaking his head, he told her, “Tell Dougal I’m at the table.”

***

Jamie was sitting at the table when Dougal walked in the door asking, “Ye lookin’ fer me?” He closed the door behind him and sat in his usual seat by Jamie.

The two men stared at each other for a few moments before Jamie began. “Two days ago, ye sat there, and ye made me a promise. Ye told me Ian was safe. Now I’m askin’ ye, brother tae brother, father tae son. Just tell me the truth and I’ll accept it, whatever it is. Just be honest wi’ me. Did ye try tae kill Ian and kill Jenny by mistake?”

Dougal sighed and shook his head. “I dinna ken who’s been fillin’ yer head with this shite, _son_ , but I’m gonna tell ye again. I love Ian, and I loved Jenny. I’d never do anything tae hurt them.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and stood up, heading for the door. As he put his hand on the door handle, Dougal said, “It’s a rough time for SAMCWRO, but we better put this shite behind us. Suspicion, resentment, that kind o’ shite eats up morale and fractures a club.”

Jamie turned back to look at Dougal, giving him a sardonic smile. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said and walked out of the door.

Fergus was sitting on his computer in the next room. Jamie approached him. “Hey, ye seen Angus?”

Fergus looked up and Jamie could see pain in his eyes. “Yeah, he’s on his way to the safe house to deal with the witness.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked.

“The info on the witness just came out,” Fergus answered, his voice shaking. “She’s a seventeen-year-old girl.”

Jamie lowered his head and rubbed his hand across his face. “Holy shite.” He heard a noise behind him and saw that Dougal had walked into the room. Jamie glanced at him and then asked Fergus, “Where are they?”

Fergus scribbled the address on a piece of paper and handed it to Jamie. “Here you go.”

Jamie turned to leave, and Dougal called after him. “Jamie! Where the hell are ye goin’?” Jamie ignored him, unable to bear the thought of an innocent child dying. He walked out of the clubhouse and slammed the door behind him.

***

It was dark when he arrived at the safe house. He tiptoed in through the back door and saw Angus in the kitchen; the witness was bound, a t-shirt pulled over her head so she couldn’t see the men’s faces. She was sobbing hysterically.

Angus stood in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry, kid.” He pulled out his gun and Jamie slammed his fist on the counter. Angus jerked his head in Jamie’s direction. “Jesus, ye scared the shite out o’ me.”

“Put down the gun,” Jamie said, walking toward him.

“What?” Angus asked incredulously.

“We don’t kill women,” Jamie insisted as he moved right next to Angus.

Hayes appeared on the other side of the room. “What are ye doin’ here, Jamie?”

Angus cocked the pistol and put it under the girl’s chin as Jamie pulled his own gun and held it to Angus’s temple. Through gritted teeth, he told Angus, “Put it down, or I will put a bullet in your temple.”

“Ye think ye’ve got the balls tae do that?” Angus said coolly. They stood there in a stalemate; the poor girl’s sobs were the only sound in the room. Finally, Angus pulled the gun away and placed it on the table next to him.

Jamie lowered his own gun. “Get out o’ here, Hayes,” he said. “This is between me and Angus.”

“This wasna the plan,” Hayes protested.

“Go home. Now.”

Jamie crouched down and used his knife to cut the duct tape on the girl’s wrists. He pulled the shirt off of her head and almost sobbed at the sight of her. She was so young and scared; he almost didn’t have the heart to do what he had to next. Mustering his resolve, he grabbed the girl’s hair at the nape of her neck. “Ye see this guy,” he said, pointing at Angus. “He’s a bad guy and he wants ye dead. And do ye ken why?” The girl shook her head and Jamie screamed in her face, “Because ye’re gonna rat on two of his friends!” He lowered his voice again and went on, “So ye canna do that, cause he will find ye no matter where ye are. And next time I willna be there tae save yer life. Ye understand?” The girl nodded her head vigorously. “The Feds, the cops, nobody can protect ye, that’s obvious. If ye testify, ye will die.”

“I won’t, I promise,” she said, her voice high and shaky.

Jamie stepped back and the girl started to run. He grabbed her by the arm. “Hey!” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a fistful of cash, thrusting it into her hand. “Ye get a train, ye get a bus, ye steal a goddamn car. I dinna give a shite. Just get out of California tonight or ye’re dead.” He released her arm and she ran out of the house into the night.

“Ye just crossed the line, brother,” Angus said from behind Jamie.

Jamie shook his head and placed his gun on the counter. He turned slowly and chuckled. “No’ quite yet,” he said just before he punched Angus in the face and tackled him to the ground. The two men struggled and wrestled, knocking over chairs and other small furniture. They punched and kicked at each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. Jamie finally got the advantage on Angus and pulled him up, dragging him over to a large dining room table and slamming Angus’s head into it.

Angus stood up and turned around slowly, his body already swaying uncontrollably. “Come on,” he dared Jamie.

Jamie reeled his arm back and launched it at Angus, knocking him to the ground again. Breathing heavily and finally satisfied, Jamie walked out of the house.

***

Jamie woke up the next morning at the cemetery, curled up on the steps of a mausoleum; an empty bottle of vodka lay on the ground nearby. He squinted at the morning sun and pushed his hair out of his face, groaning. As he stood slowly, he immediately felt his gorge rise. Stepping down from the stone structure he vomited in the grass. He was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and his jeans, and he shivered in the cool morning air.

He heard the undeniable sound of the funeral procession, a roar of motorcycle engines cutting through the quiet air. He followed the sound, making his way to Jenny’s burial site after everyone else was seated. The club members stood behind the chairs, all in their leather vests. He could see John Grey and Jack Randall, standing behind where Ian was sitting with the children. Next to Ian was Murtagh, then Anna, Laoghaire, and Ellen. Dougal was behind Ellen standing next to Angus. To the right, there was another row of chairs, and he could see Claire, sitting on the end, his leather vest in her lap.

When she saw him coming, she stood and walked over to him. She held the jacket up to him and he turned, allowing her to help him into it. When he turned back around, she put one arm around his neck and he reached around her waist, pulling her in and kissing her passionately. This was it for him; there was no going back, and he could tell that she felt the same. When they pulled apart, he nodded and said simply, “Yeah.”

Hands clasped, they walked back to the crowd. Claire took her seat, but Jamie continued on to where the coffin stood. He stared down Angus and Dougal as he picked a flower out of one of the displays. He kissed the flower and placed it on the coffin. His eyes met Ian and the two men nodded at each other.

Then Jamie turned and walked away, heading to his brother’s grave nearby. He hoisted himself up on the gravestone and sighed. Something big was coming and he knew now that he had to be ready to take a stand.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned to see Murtagh headed toward him. The old man put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and handed him a large manila envelope. Jamie looked at him with curiosity and opened it, pulling out a thick packet of papers. It was a copy of the same manuscript by his father that he had found in the storage shed months before. “Time for a change,” Murtagh said. Jamie nodded and Murtagh walked away.

Jamie slid down and walked a few feet until he was standing in front of his father’s gravestone. With his father’s legacy in his hands, Jamie nodded and said again, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains one of my favorite scenes from SOA. I had been rewatching and the parallels between the characters of Jax and Jamie were already starting to float around in my mind, but when I saw this scene (the conversation between Jamie and Claire at the hospital), I knew I had to write it.


End file.
